"WE    SWOOPED    DOWN,    NOW,    ALL    OF    A    SUDDEN" 


TOM    SAWYER   ABROAD 
TOM    SAWYER,    DETECTIVE 

AND    OTHER    STORIES 
ETC.,  ETC. 


BY   MARK  TWAIN 


) 

ILLUSTRATED 


NEW    YORK    AND   LONDON 

KARPER    &    BROTHERS    PUBLISHERS 
1905 


Copyright,  1878,  by  SLOTE,  WOODMAN  &  Co. 


Copyright,  1882,  by  SAMUEL  L.  CLEMENS 


Copyright,  1894,  by  SAMUEL  L.  CLEMENS 
Copyright,  1896  and  1899,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


"  WE  SWOOPED  DOWN,  NOW,  ALL  OF  A  SUDDEN  "       Frontispiece 
"WE    CATCHED    FISH" Facing  p.    84 

MAP  OF  TOM  SAWYER'S  TRIP 134 

"l    RECKON    I    GOT    TO    BE    EXCUSED*'     ...          "          138 
MAP    OF    PARIS Page  435 

iii 


M101115 


CONTENTS 


.       1       / 


TOM  SAWYER  ABROAD      .       I       .»     \.       ......         7 


TOM  SAWYER,  DETECTIVE     ..'.'...  .137 

THE  STOLEN  WHITE  ELEPHANT       .  \  \  *   ;       .       .       .       .     22Q 
SOME   RAMBLING  NOTES  OF  AN  IDLE  EXCURSION         .       .     254 

THE  FACTS  CONCERNING  THE  RECENT  CARNIVAL  OP 

CRIME  IN  CONNECTICUT       .    \{/V(0 3°5 

ABOUT  MAGNANIMOUS-INCIDENT  LITERATURE         ,        ,       .326 
PUNCH,  BROTHERS,   PUNCH    ....  ....     334 

THE  GREAT  REVOLUTION  IN  PITCAIRN 341 

ON  THE  DECAY  OF  THE  ART  OF  LYING     .       .       .       .       .355 

THE  CANVASSER'S  TALE 3^3 

AN  ENCOUNTER  WITH  AN  INTERVIEWER 371 

PARIS  NOTES .  ....    377 


vi  Contents 

LEGEND  OF  SAGENFELD,  IN  GERMANY 380 

SPEECH   ON  THE  BABIES 388 

SPEECH  ON  THE  WEATHEF 3s,2 

CONCERNING  THE  AMERICAN  LANGUAGE 396 

ROGERS ,  .401 

THE  LOVES  OF  ALONZO   FITZ  CLARENCE  AND 

ROSANNAH   ETHELTON 408 

MAP  OF  P\RIS        ....,...»              .       .  433 

LETTER  READ  AT  A  DINNER        .       ,        .                                       a  437 


TOM    SAWYER   ABROAD 
TOM    SAWYER    DETECTIVE 

AND 

OTHER   STORIES 


TOM  SAWYER  ABROAD 


CHAPTER  I.       ,  ,    , .       . 

TOM  SEEKS   NEW  ADVENTURES 

DO  you  reckon  Tom  Sawyer  was  satisfied  after  all 
them  adventures?  I  mean  the  adventures  we  had 
down  the  river,  and  the  time  we  set  the  darky  Jim  free 
and  Tom  got  shot  in  the  leg.  No,  he  wasn't.  It  only 
just  p'isoned  him  for  more.  That  was  all  the  effect  it 
had.  You*see,  when  we  three  came  back  up  the  river 
in  glory,  as  you  may  say,  from  that  long  travel,  and 
the  village  received  us  with  a  torchlight  procession  and 
speeches,  and  everybody  hurrah' d  and  shouted,  it 
made  us  heroes,  and  that  was  what  Tom  Sawyer  had 
always  been  hankering  to  be. 

For  a  while  he  was  satisfied.  Everybody  made 
much  of  him,  and  he  tilted  up  his  nose  and  stepped 
around  the  town  as  though  he  owned  it.  Some  called 
him  Tom  Sawyer  the  Traveler,  and  that  just  swelled 
him  up  fit  to  bust.  You  see  he  laid  over  me  and  Jim 
considerable,  because  we  only  went  down  the  river  on 
a  raft  and  came  back  by  the  steamboat,  but  Tom  went 

(7) 


8  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

by  the  steamboat  both  ways.  The  boys  envied  me  and 
Jim  a  good  deal,  but  land  !  they  just  knuckled  to  the 
dirt  before  TOM. 

Well,  I  don't  know;  maybe  he  might  have  been 
satisfied  if  it  hadn't  been  for  old  Nat  Parsons,  which 
was  postmaster,  and  powerful  long  and  slim,  and  kind 
o'  good-hearted  and  silly,  and  bald-headed,  on  account 
«9f  his.  ag,e,  and; about  the  talkiest  old  cretur  I  ever  see. 
OFor  asVmiiU'ri  as 'thirty  years  he'd  been  the  only  man  in 
rtheviliagje  that  had  a  reputation  —  I  mean  a  reputation 
'fof  being1  a  traveler,  and  of  course  he  was  mortal  proud 
of  it,  and  it  was  reckoned  that  in  the  course  of  that 
thirty  years  he  had  told  about  that  journey  over  a 
million  times  and  enjoyed  it  every  time.  And  now 
comes  along  a  boy  not  quite  fifteen,  and  sets  everybody 
admiring  and  gawking  over  his  travels,  and  it  just  give 
the  poor  old  man  the  high  strikes..  It  made  him  sick 
to  listen  to  Tom,  and  to  hear  the  people  say  "  My 
land!"  "Did  you  ever!"  "My  goodness  sakes 
alive!"  and  all  such  things ;  but  he  couldn't  pull  away 
from  it,  any  more  than  a  fly  that's  got  its  hind  leg  fast 
in  the  molasses.  And  always  when  Tom  come  to  a 
rest,  the  poor  old  cretur  would  chip  in  on  his  same  old 
travels  and  work  them  for  all  they  were  worth ;  but 
they  were  pretty  faded,  and  didn't  go  for  much,  and  it 
was  pitiful  to  see.  And  then  Tom  would  take  another 
innings,  and  then  the  old  man  again  —  and  so  on,  and 
so  on,  for  an  hour  and  more,  each  trying  to  beat  out 
the  other. 

You  see,  Parsons'  travels  happened  like  this:  When 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  9 

he  first  got  to  be  postmaster  and  was  green  in  the  busi 
ness,  there  come  a  letter  for  somebody  he  didn't  know, 
and  there  wasn't  any  such  person  in  the  village.  Well, 
he  didn't  know  what  to  do,  nor  how  to  act,  and  there 
the  letter  stayed  and  stayed,  week  in  and  week  out,  till 
the  bare  sight  of  it  gave  him  a  conniption.  The  postage 
wasn't  paid  on  it,  and  that  was  another  thing  to  worry 
about.  There  wasn't  any  way  to  collect  that  ten  cents, 
and  he  reckon'd  the  gov'ment  would  hold  him  respon 
sible  for  it  and  maybe  turn  him  out  besides,  when  they 
found  he  hadn't  collected  it.  Well,  at  last  he  couldn't 
stand  it  any  longer.  He  couldn't  sleep  nights,  he 
couldn't  eat,  he  was  thinned  down  to  a  shadder,  yet 
he  da'sn't  ask  anybody's  advice,  for  the  very  person 
he  asked  for  advice  might  go  back  on  him  and  let  the 
gov'ment  know  about  the  letter.  He  had  the  letter 
buried  under  the  floor,  but  that  did  no  good ;  if  he 
happened  to  see  a  person  standing  over  the  place  it'd 
give  him  the  cold  shivers,  and  loaded  him  up  with 
suspicions,  and  he  would  sit  up  that  night  till  the  town 
was  still  and  dark,  and  then  he  would  sneak  there  and 
get  it  out  and  bury  it  in  another  place.  Of  course, 
people  got  to  avoiding  him  and  shaking  their  heads 
and  whispering,  because,  the  way  he  was  looking  and 
acting,  they  judged  he  had  killed  somebody  or  done 
something  terrible,  they  didn't  know  what,  and  if  he 
had  been  a  stranger  they  would  've  lynched  him. 

Well,  as  I  was  saying,  it  got  so  he  couldn't  stand  it 
any  longer;  so  he  made  up  his  mind  to  pull  out  for 
Washington,  and  just  go  to  the  President  of  the  United 


10  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

States  and  make  a  clean  breast  of  the  whole  thing,  not 
keeping  back  an  atom,  and  then  fetch  the  letter  out  and 
lay  it  before  the  whole  gov'ment,  and  say,  "Now, 
there  she  is — do  with  me  what  you're  a  mind  to; 
though  as  heaven  is  my  judge  I  am  an  innocent  man 
and  not  deserving  of  the  full  penalties  of  the  law  and 
leaving  behind  me  a  family  that  must  starve  and  yet 
hadn't  had  a  thing  to  do  with  it,  which  is  the  whole 
truth  and  I  can  swear  to  it." 

So  he  did  it.  He  had  a  little  wee  bit  of  steamboat- 
ing,  and  some  stage-coaching,  but  all  the  rest  of  the 
way  was  horseback,  and  it  took  him  three  weeks  to  get 
to  Washington.  He  saw  lots  of  land  and  lots  of  vil 
lages  and  four  cities.  He  was  gone  'most  eight  weeks, 
and  there  never  was  such  a  proud  man  in  the  village  as 
he  when  he  got  back.  His  travels  made  him  the  greatest 
man  in  all  that  region,  and  the  most  talked  about;  and 
people  come  from  as  much  as  thirty  miles  back  in  the 
country,  and  from  over  in  the  Illinois  bottoms,  too, 
just  to  look  at  him  —  and  there  they'd  stand  and  gawk, 
and  he'd  gabble.  You  never  see  anything  like  it. 

Well,  there  wasn't  any  way  now  to  settle  which  was 
the  greatest  traveler ;  some  said  it  was  Nat,  some  said 
it  was  Tom.  Everybody  allowed  that  Nat  had  seen 
the  most  longitude,  but  they  had  to  give  in  that  what 
ever  Tom  was  short  in  longitude  he  had  made  up  in 
latitude  and  climate.  It  was  about  a  stand-off;  so  both 
of  them  had  to  whoop  up  their  dangerous  adventures, 
and  try  to  get  ahead  that  way.  That  bullet-wound  in 
Tom's  leg  was  a  tough  thing  for  Nat  Parsons  to  buck 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  11 

against,  but  he  bucked  the  best  he  could;  and  at  a 
disadvantage,  too,  for  Tom  didn't  set  still  as  he'd  orter 
done,  to  be  fair,  but  always  got  up  and  sauntered 
around  and  worked  his  limp  while  Nat  was  painting  up 
the  adventure  that  he  had  in  Washington ;  for  Tom 
never  let  go  that  limp  when  his  leg  got  well,  but  prac 
ticed  it  nights  at  home,  and  kept  it  good  as  new  right 
along. 

Nat's  adventure  was  like  this;  I  don't  know  how 
true  it  is ;  maybe  he  got  it  out  of  a  paper,  or  some 
where,  but  I  will  say  this  for  him,  that  he  did  know 
how  to  tell  it.  He  could  make  anybody's  flesh  crawl, 
and  he'd  turn  pale  and  hold  his  breath  when  he  told 
it,  and  sometimes  women  and  girls  got  so  faint  they 
couldn't  stick  it  out.  Well,  it  was  this  way,  as  near  as 
I  can  remember : 

He  come  a-loping  into  Washington,  and  put  up  his 
horse  and  shoved  out  to  the  President's  house  with  his 
letter,  and  they  told  him  the  President  was  up  to  the 
Capitol,  and  just  going  to  start  for  Philadelphia  —  not 
a  minute  to  lose  if  he  wanted  to  catch  him.  Nat  'most 
dropped,  it  made  him  so  sick.  His  horse  was  put  up, 
and  he  didn't  know  what  to  do.  But  just  then  along 
comes  a  darky  driving  an  old  ramshackly  hack,  and  he 
see  his  chance.  He  rushes  out  and  shouts:  "  A  half  a 
dollar  if  you  git  me  to  the  Capitol  in  half  an  hour,  and 
a  quarter  extra  if  you  do  it  in  twenty  minutes!" 

"  Done  !"   says  the  darky. 

Nat  he  jumped  in  and  slammed  the  door,  and  away 
they  went  a-ripping  and  a-tearing  over  the  roughest 


12  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

road  a  body  ever  see,  and  the  racket  of  it  was  some 
thing  awful.  Nat  passed  his  arms  through  the  loops 
and  hung  on  for  life  and  death,  but  pretty  soon  the 
hack  hit  a  rock  and  flew  up  in  the  air,  and  the  bottom 
fell  out,  and  when  it  come  down  Nat's  feet  was  on  the 
ground,  and  he  see  he  was  in  the  most  desperate  danger 
if  he  couldn't  keep  up  with  the  hack.  He  was  horrible 
scared,  but  he  laid  into  his  work  for  all  he  was  worth, 
and  hung  tight  to  the  arm-loops  and  made  his  legs 
fairly  fly.  He  yelled  and  shouted  to  the  driver  to 
stop,  and  so  did  the  crowds  along  the  street,  for  they 
could  see  his  legs  spinning  along  under  the  coach,  and 
his  head  and  shoulders  bobbing  inside  through  the 
windows,  and  he  was  in  awful  danger;  but  the  more 
they  all  shouted  the  more  the  nigger  whooped  and 
yelled  and  lashed  the  horses  and  shouted,  "  Don't  you 
fret,  I'se  gwine  to  git  you  dah  in  time,  boss;  I's  gwine 
to  do  it,  sho'  !"  for  you  see  he  thought  they  were  all 
hurrying  him  up,  and,  of  course,  he  couldn't  hear  any 
thing  for  the  racket  he  was  making.  And  so  they  went 
ripping  along,  and  everybody  just  petrified  to  see  it; 
and  when  they  got  to  the  Capitol  at  last  it  was  the 
quickest  trip  that  ever  was  made,  and  everybody  said 
so.  The  horses  laid  down,  and  Nat  dropped,  all  tuck 
ered  out,  and  he  was  all  dust  and  rags  and  barefooted ; 
but  he  was  in  time  and  just  in  time,  and  caught  the 
President  and  give  him  the  letter,  and  everything  was 
all  right,  and  the  President  give,  him  a  free  pardon  on 
the  spot,  and  Nat  give  the  nigger  two  extra  quarters 
instead  of  one,  because  he  could  see  that  if  he  hadn't 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  13 

had  the  hack  he  wouldn't  'a'  got  there  in  time,  nor 
anywhere  near  it. 

It  was  a  powerful  good  adventure,  and  Tom  Sawyer 
had  to  work  his  bullet-wound  mighty  lively  to  hold  his 
own  against  it. 

Well,  by  and  by  Tom's  glory  got  to  paling  down 
gradu'ly,  on  account  of  other  things  turning  up  for  the 
people  to  talk  about  —  first  a  horse-race,  and  on  top  of 
that  a  house  afire,  and  on  top  of  that  the  circus,  and 
on  top  of  that  the  eclipse ;  and  that  started  a  revival, 
same  as  it  always  does,  and  by  that  time  there  wasn't 
any  more  talk  about  Tom,  so  to  speak,  and  you  never 
see  a  person  so  sick  and  disgusted. 

Pretty  soon  he  got  to  worrying  and  fretting  right 
along  day  in  and  day  out,  and  when  I  asked  him  what 
was  he  in  such  a  state  about,  he  said  it  'most  broke  his 
heart  to  think  how  time  was  slipping  away,  and  him 
getting  older  and  older,  and  no  wars  breaking  out  and 
no  way  of  making  a  name  for  himself  that  he  could 
see.  Now  that  is  the  way  boys  is  always  thinking,  but 
he  was  the  first  one  I  ever  heard  come  out  and  say  it. 

So  then  he  set  to  work  to  get  up  a  plan  to  make  him 
celebrated ;  and  pretty  soon  he  struck  it,  and  offered  to 
take  me  and  Jim  in.  Tom  Sawyer  was  always  free  and 
generous  that  way.  There's  a-plenty  of  boys  that's 
mighty  good  and  friendly  when  you've  got  a  good 
thing,  but  when  a  good  thing  happens  to  come  their 
way  they  don't  say  a  word  to  you,  and  try  to  hog  it 
all.  That  warn't  ever  Tom  lawyer's  way,  I  can  say 
that  for  him.  There's  plenty  of  boys  that  will  come 


14  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

hankering  and  groveling  around  you  when  you've  got 
an  apple  and  beg  the  core  off  of  you  ;  but  when  they've 
got  one,  and  you  beg  for  the  core  and  remind  them 
how  you  give  them  a  core  one  time,  they  say  thank 
you  'most  to  death,  but  there  ain't  a-going  to  be  no 
core.  But  I  notice  they  always  git  come  up  with ;  all 
you  got  to  do  is  to  wait. 

Well,  we  went  out  in  the  woods  on  the  hill,  and  Tom 
told  us  what  it  was.  It  was  a  crusade. 

"  What's  a  crusade?"   I  says. 

He  looked  scornful,  the  way  he's  always  done  when 
he  was  ashamed  of  a  person,  and  says: 

"  Huck  Finn,  do  you  mean  to  tell  me  you  don't 
know  what  a  crusade  is?" 

"No,"  says  I,  "I  don't.  And  I  don't  care  to, 
nuther.  I've  lived  till  now  and  done  without  it,  and 
had  my  health,  too.  But  as  soon  as  you  tell  me,  I'll 
know,  and  that's  soon  enough.  I  don't  see  any  use  in 
finding  out  things  and  clogging  up  my  head  with  them 
when  I  mayn't  ever  have  any  occasion  to  use  'em. 
There  was  Lance  Williams,  he  learned  how  to  talk 
Choctaw  here  till  one  come  and  dug  his  grave  for  him. 
Now,  then,  what's  a  crusade?  But  I  can  tell  you  one 
thing  before  you  begin;  if  it's  a  patent-right,  there's 
no  money  in  it.  Bill  Thompson  he — " 

"Patent-right!"  says  he.  "I  never  see  such  an 
idiot.  Why,  a  crusade  is  a  kind  of  war." 

I  thought  he  must  be  losing  his  mind.  But  no,  he 
was  in  real  earnest,  and  went  right  on,  perfectly 
ca'm: 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  15 

41  A  crusade  is  a  war  to  recover  the  Holy  Land  from 
the  paynim." 

•'Which  Holy  Land?" 

44  Why,  the  Holy  Land  — there  ain't  but  one." 

"  What  do  we  want  of  it?" 

41  Why,  can't  you  understand?  It's  in  the  hands  oi 
the  paynim,  and  it's  our  duty  to  take  it  away  from 
them." 

4<  How  did  we  come  to  let  them  git  hold  of  it?" 

44  We  didn't  come  to  let  them  git  hold  of  it.  They 
always  had  it." 

"  Why,  Tom,  then  it  must  belong  to  them,  don't  it?" 

"  Why  of  course  it  does.     Who  said  it  didn't?" 

I  studied  over  it,  but  couldn't  seem  to  git  at  the 
right  of  it,  no  way.  I  says : 

44  It's  too  many  for  me,  Tom  Sawyer.  If  I  had  a 
farm  and  it  was  mine,  and  another  person  wanted  it, 
would  it  be  right  for  him  to — " 

"Oh,  shucks!  you  don't  know  enough  to  come  in 
when  it  rains,  Huck  Finn.  It  ain't  a  farm,  it's  entirely 
different.  You  see,  it's  like  this.  They  own  the  land, 
just  the  mere  land,  and  that's  all  they  do  own;  but  it 
wras  our  folks,  our  Jews  and  Christians,  that  made  it 
holy,  and  so  they  haven't  any  business  to  be  there 
defiling  it.  It's  a  shame,  and  we  ought  not  to  stand  it 
a  minute.  We  ought  to  march  against  them  and  take 
it  away  from  them." 

4 'Why,  it  does  seem  to  me  it's  the  most  mixed-up 
thing  I  ever  see !  Now,  if  I  had  a  farm  and  another 
person — " 


16  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

"  Don't  I  tell  you  it  hasn't  got  anything  to  do  with 
farming?  Farming  is  business  just  common  low-down 
business:  that's  all  it  is,  it's  all  you  can  say  for  it;  but 
this  is  higher,  this  is  religious,  and  totally  different." 

"Religious  to  go  and  take  the  land  away  from 
people  that  owns  it?" 

"  Certainly;   it's  always  been  considered  so." 

Jim  he  shook  his  head,  and  says: 

"  Mars  Tom,  I  reckon  dey's  a  mistake  about  it 
somers  —  dey  mos'  sholy  is.  I's  religious  myself,  en 
I  knows  plenty  religious  people,  but  I  hain't  run  across 
none  dat  acts  like  dat." 

It  made  Tom  hot,  and  he  says : 

"Well,  it's  enough  to  make  a  body  sick,  such 
mullet-headed  ignorance  !  If  either  of  you'd  read  any 
thing  about  history,  you'd  know  that  Richard  Cur  de 
Loon,  and  the  Pope,  and  Godfrey  de  Bulleyn,  and  lots 
more  of  the  most  noble-hearted  and  pious  people  in 
the  world,  hacked  and  hammered  at  the  paynims  for 
more  than  two  hundred  years  trying  to  take  their  land 
away  from  them,  and  swum  neck-deep  in  blood  the 
whole  time  — and  yet  here's  a  couple  of  sap-headed 
country  yahoos  out  in  the  backwoods  of  Missouri  set 
ting  themselves  up  to  know  more  about  the  rights  and 
wrongs  of  it  than  they  did  !  Talk  about  cheek  !" 

Well,  of  course,  that  put  a  more  different  light  on  it, 
and  me  and  Jim  felt  pretty  cheap  and  ignorant,  and 
wished  we  hadn't  been  quite  so  chipper.  I  couldn't 
say  nothing,  and  Jim  he  couldn't  for  a  while;  then  he 
says: 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  17 

"Well,  den,  I  reckon  it's  all  right;  beca'se  ef  dey 
didn't  know,  dey  ain't  no  use  for  po'  ignorant  folks 
like  us  to  be  trying  to  know;  en  so,  ef  it's  our  duty, 
we  got  to  go  en  tackle  it  en  do  de  bes'  we  can.  Same 
time,  I  feel  as  sorry  for  dem  paynims  as  Mars  Tom. 
De  hard  part  gwine  to  be  to  kill  folks  dat  a  body  hain't 
been  'quainted  wid  and  dat  hain't  done  him  no  harm. 
Dat's  it,  you  see.  Ef  we  wuz  to  go  'mongst  'em,  jist 
we  three,  en  say  we's  hungry,  en  ast  'em  for  a  bite  to 
eat,  why,  maybe  dey's  jist  like  yuther  people.  Don't 
you  reckon  dey  is?  Why,  dey' d  give  it,  I  know  dey 
would,  en  den — " 

4 'Then  what?" 

*'  Well,  Mars  Tom,  my  idea  is  like  dis.  It  ain't  no 
use,  we  can't  kill  dem  po'  strangers  dat  ain't  doin'  us 
no  harm,  till  we've  had  practice  —  I  knows  it  perfectly 
well,  Mars  Tom — 'deed  I  knows  it  perfectly  well.  But 
ef  we  takes  a'  axe  or  two,  jist  you  en  me  en  Huck,  en 
slips  acrost  de  river  to-night  arter  de  moon's  gone 
down,  en  kills  dat  sick  fam'ly  dat's  over  on  the  Sny, 
en  burns  dey  house  down,  en — " 

"Oh,  you  make  me  tired!"  says  Tom.  "  I  don't 
want  to  argue  any  more  with  people  like  you  and  Huck 
Finn,  that's  always  wandering  from  the  subject,  and 
ain't  got  any  more  sense  than  to  try  to  reason  out  a 
thing  that's  pure  theology  by  the  laws  that  protect  real 
estate ! ' ' 

Now  that's  just  where  Tom  Sawyer  warn't  fair.  Jim 
didn't  mean  no  harm,  and  I  didn't  mean  no  harm. 
We  knowed  well  enough  that  he  was  right  and  we  was 


18  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

wrong,  and  all  we  was  after  was  to  get  at  the  how  of 
it,  and  that  was  all;  and  the  only  reason  he  couldn't 
explain  it  so  we  could  understand  it  was  because  we 
was  ignorant  —  yes,  and  pretty  dull,  too,  I  ain't  deny 
ing  that;  but,  land  !  that  ain't  no  crime,  I  should  think. 

But  he  wouldn't  hear  no  more  about  it  —  just  said  if 
we  had  tackled  the  thing  in  the  proper  spirit,  he  would 
'a'  raised  a  couple  of  thousand  knights  and  put  them 
in  steel  armor  from  head  to  heel,  and  made  me  a  lieu 
tenant  and  Jim  a  sutler,  and  took  the  command  himself 
and  brushed  the  whole  paynim  outfit  into  the  sea  like 
flies  and  come  back  across  the  world  in  a  glory  like 
sunset.  But  he  said  we  didn't  know  enough  to  take 
the  chance  when  we  had  it,  and  he  wouldn't  ever  offer 
it  again.  And  he  didn't.  When  he  once  got  set,  you 
couldn't  budge  him. 

But  I  didn't  care  much.  I  am  peaceable,  and  don't 
get  up  rows  with  people  that  ain't  doing  nothing  to 
me.  I  allowed  if  the  paynim  was  satisfied  I  was,  and 
we  would  let  it  stand  at  that. 

Now  Tom  he  got  all  that  notion  out  of  Walter  Scott's 
book,  which  he  was  always  reading.  And  it  was  a 
wild  notion,  because  in  my  opinion  he  never  could've 
raised  the  men,  and  if  he  did,  as  like  as  not  he  would've 
got  licked.  I  took  the  book  and  read  all  about  it,  and 
as  near  as  I  could  make  it  out,  most  of  the  folks  that 
shook  farming  to  go  crusading  had  a  mighty  rocky 
time  of  it. 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE  BALLOON  ASCENSION 

WELL,  Tom  got  up  one  thing  after  another,  but 
they  all  had  tender  spots  about  'em  somewheres, 
and  he  had  to  shove  'em  aside.  So  at  last  he  was 
about  in  despair.  Then  the  St.  Louis  papers  begun  to 
talk  a  good  deal  about  the  balloon  that  was  going  to 
sail  to  Europe,  and  Tom  sort  of  thought  he  wanted 
to  go  down  and  see  what  it  looked  like,  but  couldn't 
make  up  his  mind.  But  the  papers  went  on  talking, 
and  so  he  allowed  that  maybe  if  he  didn't  go  he 
mightn't  ever  have  another  chance  to  see  a  balloon; 
and  next,  he  found  out  that  Nat  Parsons  was  going 
down  to  see  it,  and  that  decided  him,  of  course.  He 
wasn't  going  to  have  Nat  Parsons  coming  back  brag 
ging  about  seeing  the  balloon,  and  him  having  to  listen 
to  it  and  keep  quiet.  So  he  wanted  me  and  Jim  to  go 
too,  and  we  went. 

It  was  a  noble  big  balloon,  and  had  wings  and  fans 
and  all  sorts  of  things,  and  wasn't  like  any  balloon  you 
see  in  pictures.  It  was  away  out  toward  the  edge  of 
town,  in  a  vacant  lot,  corner  of  Twelfth  street;  and 
there  was  a  big  crowd  around  it,  making  fun  of  it,  and 
B*»  (19) 


20  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

making  fun  of  the  man, —  a  lean  pale  feller  with  that 
soft  kind  of  moonlight  in  his  eyes,  you  know,—  and 
they  kept  saying  it  wouldn't  go.  It  made  him  hot  to 
hear  them,  and  he  would  turn  on  them  and  shake  his 
fist  and  say  they  was  animals  and  blind,  but  some  day 
they  would  find  they  had  stood  face  to  face  with  one 
of  the  men  that  lifts  up  nations  and  makes  civilizations, 
and  was  too  dull  to  know  it;  and  right  here  on  this 
spot  their  own  children  and  grandchildren  would  build 
a  monument  to  him  that  would  outlast  a  thousand 
years,  but  his  name  would  outlast  the  monument. 
And  then  the  crowd  would  burst  out  in  a  laugh  again, 
and  yell  at  him,  and  ask  him  what  was  his  name  before 
he  was  married,  and  what  he  would  take  to  not  do  it, 
and  what  was  his  sister's  cat's  grandmother's  name, 
and  all  the  things  that  a  crowd  says  when  they've  got 
hold  of  a  feller  that  they  see  they  can  plague.  Well, 
some  things  they  said  was  funny, —  yes,  and  mighty 
witty  too,  I  ain't  denying  that, —  but  all  the  same  it 
warn't  fair  nor  brave,  all  them  people  pitching  on  one, 
and  they  so  glib  and  sharp,  and  him  without  any  gift 
of  talk  to  answer  back  v/ith.  But,  good  land  !  what 
did  he  want  to  sass  back  for?  You  see,  it  couldn't  do 
him  no  good,  and  it  was  just  nuts  for  them.  They 
had  him,  you  know.  But  that  was  his  way.  I  reckon 
he  couldn't  help  it;  he  was  made  so,  I  judge.  He 
was  a  good  enough  sort  of  cretur,  and  hadn't  no  harm 
in  him,  and  was  just  a  genius,  as  the  papers  said,  which 
wasn't  his  fault.  We  can't  all  be  sound:  we've  got  to 
be  the  way  we're  made.  As  near  as  I  can  make  out, 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  21 

geniuses  think  they  know  it  all,  and  so  they  won't  take 
people's  advice,  but  always  go  their  own  way,  which 
makes  everybody  forsake  them  and  despise  them,  and 
that  is  perfectly  natural.  If  they  was  humbler,  and 
listened  and  tried  to  learn,  it  would  be  better  for  them. 

The  part  the  professor  was  in  was  like  a  boat,  and 
was  big  and  roomy,  and  had  water-tight  lockers  around 
the  inside  to  keep  all  sorts  of  things  in,  and  a  body 
could  sit  on  them,  and  make  beds  on  them,  too.  We 
went  aboard,  and  there  was  twenty  people  there,  snoop 
ing  around  and  examining,  and  old  Nat  Parsons  was 
there,  too.  The  professor  kept  fussing  around  getting 
ready,  and  the  people  went  ashore,  drifting  out  one  at 
a  time,  and  old  Nat  he  was  the  last.  Of  course  it 
wouldn't  do  to  let  him  go  out  behind  us.  We  mustn't 
budge  till  he  was  gone,  so  we  could  be  last  ourselves. 

But  he  was  gone  now,  so  it  was  time  for  us  to  follow. 
I  heard  a  big  shout,  and  turned  around  —  the  city  was 
dropping  from  under  us  like  a  shot !  It  made  me  sick 
all  through,  I  was  so  scared.  Jim  turned  gray  and 
couldn't  say  a  wrord,  and  Tom  didn't  say  nothing,  but 
looked  excited.  The  city  went  on  dropping  down, 
and  down,  and  down;  but  we  didn't  seem  to  be  doing 
nothing  but  just  hang  in  the  air  and  stand  still.  The 
houses  got  smaller  and  smaller,  and  the  city  pulled 
itself  together,  closer  and  closer,  and  the  men  and 
wagons  got  to  looking  like  ants  and  bugs  crawling 
around,  and  the  streets  like  threads  and  cracks;  and 
then  it  all  kind  of  melted  together,  and  there  wasn't 
any  city  any  more :  it  was  only  a  big  scar  on  the  earth, 


22  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

and  it  seemed  to  me  a  body  could  see  up  the  river  and 
down  the  river  about  a  thousand  miles,  though  of 
course  it  wasn't  so  much.  By  and  by  the  earth  was  a 
ball  —  just  a  round  ball,  of  a  dull  color,  with  shiny 
stripes  wriggling  and  winding  around  over  it,  which 
was  rivers.  The  Widder  Douglas  always  told  me  the 
earth  was  round  like  a  ball,  but  I  never  took  any  stock 
in  a  lot  of  them  superstitions  o'  hers,  and  of  course  I 
paid  no  attention  to  that  one,  because  I  could  see  my 
self  that  the  world  was  the  shape  of  a  plate,  and  flat. 
I  used  to  go  up  on  the  hill,  and  take  a  look  around 
and  prove  it  for  myself,  because  I  reckon  the  best  way 
to  get  a  sure  thing  on  a  fact  is  to  go  and  examine  for 
yourself,  and  not  take  anybody's  say-so.  But  I  had  to 
give  in  now  that  the  widder  was  right.  That  is,  she 
was  right  as  to  the  rest  of  the  world,  but  she  warn't 
right  about  the  part  our  village  is  in ;  that  part  is  the 
shape  of  a  plate,  and  flat,  I  take  my  oath ! 

The  professor  had  been  quiet  all  this  time,  as  if  he 
was  asleep ;  but  he  broke  loose  now,  and  he  was  mighty 
bitter.  He  says  something  like  this : 

"Idiots!  They  said  it  wouldn't  go;  and  they 
wanted  to  examine  it,  and  spy  around  and  get  the 
secret  of  it  out  of  me.  But  I  beat  them.  Nobody 
knows  the  secret  but  me.  Nobody  knows  what  makes 
it  move  but  me;  and  it's  a  new  power  — a  new  power, 
and  a  thousand  times  the  strongest  in  the  earth ! 
Steam's  foolishness  to  it!  They  said  I  couldn't  go  to 
Europe.  To  Europe !  Why,  there's  power  aboard  to 
last  five  years,  and  feed  for  three  months.  They  are 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  23 

fools!  What  do  they  know  about  it?  Yes,  and  they 
said  my  air-ship  was  flimsy.  Why,  she's  good  for 
fifty  years !  I  can  sail  the  skies  all  my  life  if  I  want 
to,  and  steer  where  I  please,  though  they  laughed  at 
that,  and  said  I  couldn't.  Couldn't  steer !  Come 
here,  boy;  we'll  see.  You  press  these  buttons  as  I 
tell  you." 

Ke  made  Tom  steer  the  ship  all  about  and  every 
which  way,  and  learnt  him  the  whole  thing  in  nearly 
no  time;  and  Tom  said  it  was  perfectly  easy.  He 
made  him  fetch  the  ship  down  'most  to  the  earth,  and 
had  him  spin  her  along  so  close  to  the  Illinois  prairies 
that  a  body  could  talk  to  the  farmers,  and  hear  every 
thing  they  said  perfectly  plain ;  and  he  flung  out 
printed  bills  to  them  that  told  about  the  balloon,  and 
said  it  was  going  to  Europe.  Tom  got  so  he  could 
steer  straight  for  a  tree  till  he  got  nearly  to  it,  and  then 
dart  up  and  skin  right  along  over  the  top  of  it.  Yes, 
and  he  showed  Tom  how  to  land  her ;  and  he  done  it 
first-rate,  too,  and  set  her  down  in  the  prairies  as  soft 
as  wool.  But  the  minute  we  started  to  skip  out  the 
professor  says,  "  No,  you  don't!"  and  shot  her  up  in 
the  air  again.  It  was  awful.  I  begun  to  beg,  and  so 
did  Jim;  but  it  only  give  his  temper  a  rise,  and  he 
begun  to  rage  around  and  look  wild  out  of  his  eyes, 
and  I  was  scared  of  him. 

Well,  then  he  got  on  to  his  troubles  again,  and 
mourned  and  grumbled  about  the  way  he  was  treated, 
and  couldn't  seem  to  git  over  it,  and  especially  people's 
saying  his  ship  was  flimsy.  He  scoffed  at  that,  and  at 


24  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

their  saying  she  warn't  simple  and  would  be  always 
getting  out  of  order.  Get  out  of  order !  That  graveled 
him;  he  said  that  she  couldn't  anymore  get  out  of 
order  than  the  solar  sister. 

He  got  worse  and  worse,  and  I  never  see  a  person 
take  on  so.  It  give  me  the  cold  shivers  to  see  him, 
and  so  it  did  Jim.  By  and  by  he  got  to  yelling  and 
screaming,  and  then  he  swore  the  world  shouldn't  ever 
have  his  secret  at  all  now,  it  had  treated  him  so  mean. 
He  said  he  would  sail  his  balloon  around  the  globe  just 
to  show  what  he  could  do,  and  then  he  would  sink  it  in 
the  sea,  and  sink  us  all  along  with  it,  too.  Well,  it  was 
the  awfulest  fix  to  be  in,  and  here  was  night  coming 
on ! 

He  give  us  something  to  eat,  and  made  us  go  to  the 
other  end  of  the  boat,  and  he  laid  down  on  a  locker, 
where  he  could  boss  all  the  works,  and  put  his  old 
pepper-box  revolver  under  his  head,  and  said  if  any 
body  come  fooling  around  there  trying  to  land  her,  he 
would  kill  him. 

We  set  scrunched  up  together,  and  thought  consider 
able,  but  didn't  say  much  —  only  just  a  word  once  in  a 
while  when  a.  body  had  to  say  something  or  bust,  we 
was  so  scared  and  worried.  The  night  dragged  along 
slow  and  lonesome.  We  was  pretty  low  down,  and  the 
moonshine  made  everything  soft  and  pretty,  and  the 
farmhouses  looked  snug  and  homeful,  and  we  could 
hear  the  farm  sounds,  and  wished  we  could  be  down 
there ;  but,  laws !  we  just  slipped  along  over  them  like 
a  ghost,  and  never  left  a  track. 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  25 

Away  in  the  night,  when  all  the  sounds  was  late 
sounds,  and  the  air  had  a  late  feel,  and  a  late  smell, 
too  —  about  a  two-o'clock  feel,  as  near  as  I  could  make 
out  —  Tom  said  the  professor  was  so  quiet  this  time 
he  must  be  asleep,  and  we'd  better — 

"  Better  what?"  I  says  in  a  whisper,  and  feeling  sick 
all  over,  because  I  knowed  what  he  was  thinking  about. 

"Better  slip  back  there  and  tie  him,  and  land  the 
ship,"  he  says. 

I  says:   '*  No,  sir!    Don't  you  budge,  Tom  Sawyer." 

And  Jim  —  well,  Jim  was  kind  o'  gasping,  he  was  so 
scared.  He  says : 

14  Oh,  Mars  Tom,  don't!  Ef  you  teches  him,  we's 
gone  —  we's  gone  sho'  !  I  ain't  gwine  anear  him,  not 
for  nothin'  in  dis  worl' .  Mars  Tom,  he's  plumb  crazy. ' ' 

Tom  whispers  and  says:  "  That's  why  we've  got  to 
do  something.  If  he  wasn't  crazy  I  wouldn't  give 
shucks  to  be  anywhere  but  here;  you  couldn't  hire  me 
to  get  out  —  now  that  I've  got  used  to  this  balloon  and 
over  the  scare  of  being  cut  loose  from  the  solid  ground 
— -  if  he  was  in  his  right  mind.  But  it's  no  good  politics, 
sailing  around  like  this  with,  a  person  that's  out  of  his 
head,  and  says  he's  going  round  the  world  and  then 
drown  us  all.  We've  got  to  do  something,  I  tell  you, 
and  do  it  before  he  wakes  up,  too,  or  we  mayn't  ever 
get  another  chance.  Come  !" 

But  it  made  us  turn  cold  and  creepy  just  to  think  of 
it,  and  we  said  we  wouldn't  budge.  So  Tom  was  for 
slipping  back  there  by  himself  to  see  if  he  couldn't  get 
at  the  steering-gear  and  land  the  ship.  We  begged  and 


26  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

begged  him  not  to,  but  it  warn't  no  use;  so  he  got 
down  on  his  hands  and  knees,  and  begun  to  crawl  an 
inch  at  a  time,  we  a-holding  our  breath  and  watching. 
After  he  got  to  the  middle  of  the  boat  he  crept  slower 
than  ever,  and  it  did  seem  like  years  to  me.  But  at 
last  we  see  him  get  to  the  professor's  head,  and  sort 
of  raise  up  soft  and  look  a  good  spell  in  his  face  and 
listen.  Then  we  see  him  begin  to  inch  along  again 
toward  the  professor's  feet  where  the  steering-buttons 
was.  Well,  he  got  there  all  safe,  and  was  reaching 
slow  and  steady  toward  the  buttons,  but  he  knocked 
down  something  that  made  a  noise,  and  we  see  him 
slump  down  flat  an'  soft  in  the  bottom,  and  lay  still. 
The  professor  stirred,  and  says,  "What's  that?"  But 
everybody  kept  dead  still  and  quiet,  and  he  begun  to 
mutter  and  mumble  and  nestle,  like  a  person  that's 
going  to  wake  up,  and  I  thought  I  was  going  to  die,  I 
was  so  worried  and  scared. 

Then  a  cloud  slid  over  the  moon,  and  I  'most  cried, 
I  was  so  glad.  She  buried  herself  deeper  and  deeper 
into  the  cloud,  and  it  got  so  dark  we  couldn't  see  Tom. 
Then  it  began  to  sprinkle  rain,  and  we  could  hear  the 
professor  fussing  at  his  ropes  and  things  and  abusing 
the  weather.  We  was  afraid  every  minute  he  would 
touch  Tom,  and  then  we  would  be  goners,  and  no 
help ;  but  Tom  was  already  on  his  way  back,  and  when 
we  felt  his  hands  on  our  knees  my  breath  stopped 
sudden,  and  my  heart  fell  down  'mongst  my  other  works, 
because  I  couldn't  tell  in  the  dark  but  it  might  be  the 
professor,  which  I  thought  it  was. 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  27 

Dear !  I  was  so  glad  to  have  him  back  that  I  was 
just  as  near  happy  as  a  person  could  be  that  was  up  in 
the  air  that  way  with  a  deranged  man.  You  can't  land 
a  balloon  in  the  dark,  and  so  I  hoped  it  would  keep  on 
raining,  for  I  didn't  want  Tom  to  go  meddling  any 
more  and  make  us  so  awful  uncomfortable.  Well,  I 
got  my  wish.  It  drizzled  and  drizzled  along  the  rest 
of  the  night,  which  wasn't  long,  though  it  did  seem  so ; 
and  at  daybreak  it  cleared,  and  the  world  looked 
mighty  soft  and  gray  and  pretty,  and  the  forests  and 
fields  so  good  to  see  again,  and  the  horses  and  cattle 
standing  sober  and  thinking.  Next,  the  sun  come  a- 
blazing  up  gay  and  splendid,  and  then  we  began  to  feel 
rusty  and  stretchy,  and  first  we  knowed  we  was  all 
asleep. 


CHAPTER  III. 

TOM  EXPLAINS 

WE  went  to  sleep  about  four  o'clock,  and  woke  up 
about  eight.  The  professor  was  setting  back 
there  at  his  end,  looking  glum.  He  pitched  us  some 
breakfast,  but  he  told  us  not  to  come  abaft  the  midship 
compass.  That  was  about  the  middle  of  the  boat. 
Well,  when  you  are  sharp-set,  and  you  eat  and  satisfy 
yourself,  everything  looks  pretty  different  from  what  it 
done  before.  It  makes  a  body  feel  pretty  near  com 
fortable,  even  when  he  is  up  in  a  balloon  with  a  genius. 
We  got  to  talking  together. 

There  was  one  thing  that  kept  bothering  me,  and  by 
and  by  I  says : 

44  Tom,  didn't  we  start  east?" 

44  Yes." 

44  How  fast  have  we  been  going?" 

44  Well,  you  heard  what  the  professor  said  when  he 
was  raging  round.  Sometimes,  he  said,  we  was  making 
fifty  miles  an  hour,  sometimes  ninety,  sometimes  a 
hundred ;  said  that  with  a  gale  to  help  he  could  make 
three  hundred  any  time,  and  said  if  he  wanted  the  gale, 
and  wanted  it  blowing  the  right  direction,  he  only  had 
to  go  up  higher  or  down  lower  to  find  it." 

(28) 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  29 

"  Well,  then,  it's  just  as  I  reckoned.  The  professor 
lied." 

"Why?" 

"Because  if  we  was  going  so  fast  we  ought  to  be 
past  Illinois,  oughtn't  we?" 

"Certainly." 

"Well,  we  ain't." 

"  What's  the  reason  we  ain't?" 

'*  I  know  by  the  color.  We're  right  over  Illinois 
yet.  And  you  can  see  for  yourself  that  Indiana  ain't 
in  sight." 

"  I  wonder  what's  the  matter  with  you,  Huck.  You 
know  by  the  color  ?' ' 

"Yes,  of  course  I  do." 

"  What's  the  color  got  to  do  with  it?" 

"  It's  got  everything  to  do  with  it.  Illinois  is  green, 
Indiana  is  pink.  You  show  me  any  pink  down  here, 
if  you  can.  No,  sir;  it's  green." 

' '  Indiana  pink  f     Why,  what  a  lie  ! " 

14  It  ain't  no  lie;  I've  seen  it  on  the  map,  and  it's 
pink." 

You  never  see  a  person  so  aggravated  and  disgusted. 
He  says: 

"Well,  if  I  was  such  a  numbskull  as  you,  Huck 
Finn,  I  would  jump  over.  Seen  it  on  the  map  !  Huck 
Finn,  did  you  reckon  the  States  was  the  same  color 
out-of-doors  as  they  are  on  the  map?" 

"  Tom  Sawyer,  what's  a  map  for?  Ain't  it  to  learn 
you  facts?" 

"Of  course.' 


30  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

41  Well,  then,  how's  it  going  to  do  that  if  it  tells  lies? 
That's  what  I  want  to  know." 

11  Shucks,  you  muggins!     It  don't  tell  lies." 

"It  don't,  don't  it?" 

"No,  it  don't." 

"All  right,  then;  if  it  don't,  there  ain't  no  two 
States  the  same  color.  You  git  around  that,  if  you 
can,  Tom  Sawyer." 

He  see  I  had  him,  and  Jim  see  it  too;  and  I  tell 
you,  I  felt  pretty  good,  for  Tom  Sawyer  was  always  a 
hard  person  to  git  ahead  of.  Jim  slapped  his  leg  and 
says: 

"I  tell  you  !  dat's  smart,  dat's  right  down  smart. 
Ain't  no  use,  Mars  Tom;  he  got  you  dis  time,  sho'  !" 
He  slapped  his  leg  again,  and  says,  *  'My  Ian' ,  but  it 
was  smart  one !" 

I  never  felt  so  good  in  my  life;  and  yet  /  didn't 
know  I  was  saying  anything  much  till  it  was  out.  I 
was  just  mooning  along,  perfectly  careless,  and  not 
expecting  anything  was  going  to  happen,  and  never 
thinking  of  such  a  thing  at  all,  when,  all  of  a  sudden, 
out  it  came.  Why,  it  was  just  as  much  a  surprise  to 
me  as  it  was  to  any  of  them.  It  was  just  the  same  way 
it  is  when  a  person  is  munching  along  on  a  hunk  of 
corn-pone,  and  not  thinking  about  anything,  and  all  of 
a  sudden  bites  into  a  di'mond.  Now  all  that  he  knows 
first  off  is  that  it's  some  kind  of  gravel  he's  bit  into; 
but  he  don't  find  out  it's  a  di'mond  till  he  gits  it  out 
and  brushes  off  the  sand  and  crumbs  and  one  thing  or 
another,  and  has  a  look  at  it,  and  then  he's  surprised 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  31 

and  glad  —  yes,  and  proud  too;  though  when  you 
come  to  look  the  thing  straight  in  the  eye,  he  ain't 
entitled  to  as  much  credit  as  he  would  'a'  been  if  he'd 
been  hunting  di'monds.  You  can  see  the  difference 
easy  if  you  think  it  over.  You  see,  an  accident,  that 
way,  ain't  fairly  as  big  a  thing  as  a  thing  that's  done 
a-purpose.  Anybody  could  find  that  di'mond  in  that 
corn-pone;  but  mind  you,  it's  got  to  be  somebody 
that's  got  that  kind  of  a  corn-pone.  That's  where  that 
feller's  credit  comes  in,  you  see;  and  that's  where 
mine  comes  in.  I  don't  claim  no  great  things  —  I 
don't  reckon  I  could  'a*  done  it  again  —  but  I  done  it 
that  time;  that's  all  I  claim.  And  I  hadn't  no  more 
idea  I  could  do  such  a  thing,  and  warn't  any  more 
thinking  about  it  or  trying  to,  than  you  be  this  minute. 
Why,  I  was  just  as  ca'm,  a  body  couldn't  be  any 
ca'mer,  and  yet,  all  of  a  sudden,  out  it  come.  I've 
often  thought  of  that  time,  and  I  can  remember  just 
the  way  everything  looked,  same  as  if  it  was  only  last 
week.  I  can  see  it  all :  beautiful  rolling  country  with 
woods  and  fields  and  lakes  for  hundreds  and  hundreds 
of  miles  all  around,  and  towns  and  villages  scattered 
everywheres  under  us,  here  and  there  and  yonder;  and 
the  professor  mooning  over  a  chart  on  his  little  table, 
and  Tom's  cap  flopping  in  the  rigging  where  it  was 
hung  up  to  dry.  And  one  thing  in  particular  was  a 
bird  right  alongside,  not  ten  foot  off,  going  our  way 
and  trying  to  keep  up,  but  losing  ground  all  the  time; 
and  a  railroad  train  doing  the  same  thing  down  there, 
sliding  among  the  trees  and  farms,  and  pouring  out  a 


32  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

long  cloud  of  black  smoke  and  now  and  then  a  little 
puff  of  white ;  and  when  the  white  was  gone  so  long 
you  had  almost  forgot  it,  you  would  hear  a  little  faint 
toot,  and  that  was  the  whistle.  And  we  left  the  bird 
and  the  train  both  behind,  'way  behind,  and  done  it 
easy,  too. 

But  Tom  he  was  huffy,  and  said  me  and  Jim  was  a 
couple  of  ignorant  blatherskites,  and  then  he  says: 

"  Suppose  there's  a  brown  calf  and  a  big  brown  dog, 
and  an  artist  is  making  a  picture  of  them.  What  is  the 
main  thing  that  that  artist  has  got  to  do?  He  has  got 
to  paint  them  so  you  can  tell  them  apart  the  minute 
you  look  at  them,  hain't  he?  Of  course.  Well,  then, 
do  you  want  him  to  go  and  paint  both  of  them  brown  ? 
Certainly  you  don't.  He  paints  one  of  them  blue, 
and  then  you  can't  make  no  mistake.  It's  just  the 
same  with  the  maps.  That's  why  they  make  every 
State  a  different  color;  it  ain't  to  deceive  you,  it's  to 
keep  you  from  deceiving  yourself." 

But  I  couldn't  see  no  argument  about  that,  and 
neither  could  Jim.  Jim  shook  his  head,  and  says: 

"Why,  Mars  Tom,  if  you  knowed  what  chuckle- 
heads  dem  painters  is,  you'd  wait  a  long  time  before 
you'd  fetch  one  er  dem  in  to  back  up  a  fac'.  I's 
gwine  to  tell  you,  den  you  kin  see  for  you 'self.  I  see 
one  of  'em  a-paintin'  away,  one  day,  down  in  ole 
Hank  Wilson's  back  lot,  en  I  went  down  to  see,  en  he 
was  paintin'  dat  old  brindle  cow  wid  de  near "  horn 
gone  —  you  knows  de  one  I  means.  En  I  ast  him 
what  he's  paintin'  her  for,  en  he  say  when  he  git  her 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  33 

painted,  de  picture's  wuth  a  hundred  dollars.  Mars 
Tom,  he  could  a  got  de  cow  fer  fifteen,  en  I  tole  him 
so.  Well,  sah,  if  you'll  b'lieve  me,  he  jes'  shuck  his 
head,  dat  painter  did,  en  went  on  a-dobbin'.  Bless 
you,  Mars  Tom,  dey  don't  know  nothinV 

Tom  lost  his  temper.  I  notice  a  person  'most  always 
does  that's  got  laid  out  in  an  argument.  He  told  us  to 
shut  up,  and  maybe  we'd  feel  better.  Then  he  see  a 
town  clock  away  off  down  yonder,  and  he  took  up  the 
glass  and  looked  at  it,  and  then  looked  at  his  silver 
turnip,  and  then  at  the  clock,  and  then  at  the  turnip 
again,  and  says: 

'  That's  funny !     That  clock's  near  about  an  hour 
fast." 

So  he  put  up  his  turnip.  Then  he  see  another  clock, 
and  took  a  look,  and  it  was  an  hour  fast  too.  That 
puzzled  him. 

"That's  a  mighty  curious  thing,"  he  says.  "I 
don't  understand  it." 

Then  he  took  the  glass  and  hunted  up  another  clock, 
and  sure  enough  it  was  an  hour  fast  too.  Then  his 
eyes  began  to  spread  and  his  breath  to  come  out  kinder 
gaspy  like,  and  he  says: 

41  Ger-reat  Scott,  it's  the  longitude  /" 

I  says,  considerably  scared : 

14  Well,  what's  been  and  gone  and  happened  now?" 

"Why,  the  thing  that's   happened   is   that  this  old 
bladder  has  slid  over  Illinois  and  Indiana  and  Ohio  like 
nothing,  and   this  is  the   east  end   of  Pennsylvania  or 
New  York,  or  somewheres  around  there." 
3** 


34  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

"Tom  Sawyer,  you  don't  mean  it!" 

"Yes,  I  do,  and  it's  dead  sure.  We've  covered 
about  fifteen  degrees  of  longitude  since  we  left  St. 
Louis  yesterday  afternoon,  and  them  clocks  are  right. 
We've  come  close  on  to  eight  hundred  miles.'* 

I  didn't  believe  it,  but  it  made  the  cold  streaks 
trickle  down  my  back  just  the  same.  In  my  experi 
ence  I  knowed  it  wouldn't  take  much  short  of  two 
weeks  to  do  it  down  the  Mississippi  on  a  raft. 

Jim  was  working  his  mind  and  studying.  Pretty 
soon  he  says : 

1  'Mars  Tom,  did  you  say  dem  clocks  uz  right?" 

"Yes,  they're  right." 

"  Ain't  yo'  watch  right,  too?" 

"  She's  right  for  St.  Louis,  but  she's  an  hour  wrong 
for  here." 

'*  Mars  Tom,  is  you  tryin'  to  let  on  dat  de  time  ain't 
de  same  every wheres?" 

"  No,  it  ain't  the  same  every  wheres,  by  a  long 
shot." 

Jim  looked  distressed,  and  says: 

"  It  grieves  me  to  hear  you  talk  like  dat,  Mars  Tom; 
I's  right  down  ashamed  to  hear  you  talk  like  dat,  arter 
de  way  you's  been  raised.  Yassir,  it'd  break  yo'  Aunt 
Polly's  heart  to  hear  you." 

Tom  was  astonished.  He  looked  Jim  over  wonder 
ing,  and  didn't  say  nothing,  and  Jim  went  on: 

"  Mars  Tom,  who  put  de  people  out  yonder  in  St. 
Louis?  De  Lord  done  it.  Who  put  de  people  here 
whar  we  is?  De  Lord  done  it.  Ain'  dey  bofe  his 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  35 

children?     'Cose  dey  is.      Well,  den !   is  he   gwine  to 
s criminate  'twixt  'em?" 

"  Scriminate  !  I  never  heard  such  ignorance.  There 
ain't  no  discriminating  about  it.  When  he  makes  you 
and  some  more  of  his  children  black,  and  makes  the 
rest  of  us  white,  what  do  you  call  that?" 

Jim  see  the  p'int.  He  was  stuck.  He  couldn't 
answer.  Tom  says : 

"  He  does  discriminate,  you  see,  when  he  wants  to; 
but  this  case  here  ain't  no  discrimination  of  his,  it's 
man's.  The  Lord  made  the  day,  and  he  made  the 
night;  but  he  didn't  invent  the  hours,  and  he  didn't 
distribute  them  around.  Man  did  that." 

"  Mars  Tom,  is  dat  so?     Man  done  it?" 

"Certainly." 

"Who  tole  him  he  could?" 

"Nobody.      He  never  asked." 

Jim  studied  a  minute,  and  says: 

"Well,  dat  do  beat  me.  I  wouldn't  'a*  tuck  no 
sich  resk.  But  some  people  ain't  scared  o'  nothin'. 
Dey  bangs  right  ahead ;  dey  don't  care  what  happens. 
So  den  dey's  allays  an  hour's  diff'unce  every whah, 
Mars  Tom?" 

"An  hour?  No!  It's  four  minutes  difference  for 
every  degree  of  longitude,  you  know.  Fifteen  of  'em's 
an  hour,  thirty  of  'em's  two  hours,  and  so  on.  When 
it's  one  clock  Tuesday  morning  in  England,  it's  eight 
o'clock  the  night  before  in  New  York." 

Jim   moved   a  little   way  along  the   locker,  and  you 

could  see  he  was  insulted.     He  kept  shaking  his  head 
c** 


36  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

and  muttering,  and  so  I  slid  along  to  him  and  patted 
him  on  the  leg,  and  petted  him  up,  and  got  him  over 
the  worst  of  his  feelings,  and  then  he  says: 

44  Mars  Tom  talkin'  sich  talk  as  dat !  Choosday  in 
one  place  en  Monday  in  t'other,  bofe  in  the  same  day! 
Huck,  dis  ain't  no  place  to  joke  —  up  here  whah  we  is. 
Two  days  in  one  day !  How  you  gwine  to  get  two 
days  inter  one  day?  Can't  git  two  hours  inter  one 
hour,  kin  you?  Can't  git  two  niggers  inter  one  nigger 
skin,  kin  you?  Can't  git  two  gallons  of  whisky  inter  a 
one-gallon  jug,  kin  you?  No,  sir,  'twould  strain  de 
jug.  Yes,  en  even  den  you  couldn't,  /  don't  believe. 
Why,  looky  here,  Huck,  s'posen  de  Choosday  was 
New  Year's — now  den  !  is  you  gwine  to  tell  me  it's 
dis  year  in  one  place  en  las'  year  in  t'other,  bofe  in  de 
identical  same  minute?  It's  de  beatenest  rubbage  !  I 
can't  stan'  it  —  I  can't  stan'  to  hear  tell  'bout  it." 
Then  he  begun  to  shiver  and  turn  gray,  and  Tom 
says: 

44  Now  what's  the  matter?     What's  the  trouble?" 

Jim  could  hardly  speak,  but  he  says : 

"  Mars  Tom,  you  ain't  jokin',  en  it's  so  ?" 

44  No,  I'm  not,  and  it  is  so." 

Jim  shivered  again,  and  says: 

4 'Den  dat  Monday  could  be  de  las'  day,  en  dey 
wouldn't  be  no  las'  day  in  England,  en  de  dead 
wouldn't  be  called.  We  mustn't  go  over  dah,  Mars 
Tom.  Please  git  him  to  turn  back;  I  wants  to  be 
whah—" 

All  of  a  sudden  we  see  something,  and  all  jumped 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  37 

up,  and  forgot  everything  and  begun  to  gaze.  Tom 
says: 

"Ain't  that  the — "  He  catched  his  breath,  then 
says:  *'  It  is,  sure  as  you  live  !  It's  the  ocean  !" 

That  made  me  and  Jim  catch  our  breath,  too.  Then 
we  all  stood  petrified  but  happy,  for  none  of  us  had 
ever  seen  an  ocean,  or  ever  expected  to.  Tom  kept 
muttering: 

"  Atlantic  Ocean — Atlantic.  Land,  don't  it  sound 
great !  And  that's  it —  and  we  are  looking  at  it  —  we  ! 
Why,  it's  just  too  splendid  to  believe  !" 

Then  we  see  a  big  bank  of  black  smoke ;  and  when 
we  got  nearer,  it  was  a  city  —  and  a  monster  she  was, 
too,  with  a  thick  fringe  of  ships  around  one  edge;  and 
we  wondered  if  it  was  New  York,  and  begun  to  jaw 
and  dispute  about  it,  and,  first  we  knowed,  it  slid  from 
under  us  and  went  flying  behind,  and  here  we  was,  out 
over  the  very  ocean  itself,  and  going  like  a  cyclone. 
Then  we  woke  up,  I  tell  you ! 

We  made  a  break  aft  and  raised  a  wail,  and  begun  to 
beg  the  professor  to  turn  back  and  land  us,  but 
he  jerked  out  his  pistol  and  motioned  us  back, 
and  we  went,  but  nobody  will  ever  know  how  bad  we 
felt. 

The  land  was  gone,  all  but  a  little  streak,  like  a 
snake,  away  off  on  the  edge  of  the  water,  and  down 
under  us  was  just  ocean,  ocean,  ocean  —  millions  of 
miles  of  it,  heaving  and  pitching  and  squirming,  and 
white  sprays  blowing  from  the  wave-tops,  and  only  a 
few  ships  in  sight,  wallowing  around  and  laying  over, 


38  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

first  on  one  side  and  then  on  t'other,  and  sticking  their 
bows  under  and  then  their  sterns;  and  before  long 
there  warn't  no  ships  at  all,  and  we  had  the  sky  and 
the  whole  ocean  all  to  ourselves,  and  the  roomiest  place 
I  ever  see  and  the  lonesomest. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

STORM 

AND  it  got  lonesomer  and  lonesomer.  There  was 
the  big  sky  up  there,  empty  and  awful  deep ;  and 
the  ocean  down  there  without  a  thing  on  it  but  just  the 
waves.  All  around  us  was  a  ring,  where  the  sky  and 
the  water  come  together;  yes,  a  monstrous  big  ring  it 
was,  and  we  right  in  the  dead  center  of  it — plumb  in 
the  center.  We  was  racing  along  like  a  prairie  fire,  but 
it  never  made  any  difference,  we  couldn't  seem  to  git 
past  that  center  no  way.  I  couldn't  see  that  we  ever 
gained  an  inch  on  that  ring.  It  made  a  body  feel 
creepy,  it  was  so  curious  and  unaccountable. 

Well,  everything  was  so  awful  still  that  we  got  to 
talking  in  a  very  low  voice,  and  kept  on  getting  creepier 
and  lonesomer  and  less  and  less  talky,  till  at  last  the 
talk  ran  dry  altogether,  and  we  just  set  there  and 
*'thunk,"  as  Jim  calls  it,  and  never  said  a  word  the 
longest  time. 

The  professor  never  stirred  till  the  sun  was  overhead, 
then  he  stood  up  and  put  a  kind  of  triangle  to  his  eye, 
and  Tom  said  it  was  a  sextant  and  he  was  taking  the 
sun  to  see  whereabouts  the  balloon  was.  Then  he 
ciphered  a  little  and  looked  in  a  book,  and  then  he 

(39) 


40  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

begun  to  carry  on  again.  He  said  lots  of  wild  things, 
and,  among  others,  he  said  he  would  keep  up  this 
hundred-mile  gait  till  the  middle  of  to-morrow  after 
noon,  and  then  he'd  land  in  London. 

We  said  we  would  be  humbly  thankful. 

He  was  turning  away,  but  he  whirled  around  when 
we  said  that,  and  give  us  a  long  look  of  his  blackest 
kind  —  one  of  the  maliciousest  and  suspiciousest  looks 
I  ever  see.  Then  he  says: 

1  You  want  to  leave  me.     Don't  try  to  deny  it." 

We  didn't  know  what  to  say,  so  we  held  in  and 
didn't  say  nothing  at  all. 

He  went  aft  and  set  down,  but  he  couldn't  seem  to 
git  that  thing  out  of  his  mind.  Every  now  and  then  he 
would  rip  out  something  about  it,  and  try  to  make  us 
answer  him,  but  we  dasn't. 

It  got  lonesomer  and  lonesomer  right  along,  and  it 
did  seem  to  me  I  couldn't  stand  it.  It  was  still  worse 
when  night  begun  to  come  on.  By  and  by  Tom 
pinched  me  and  whispers : 

"Look!" 

I  took  a  glance  aft,  and  see  the  professor  taking  a 
whet  out  of  a  bottle.  I  didn't  like  the  looks  of  that. 
By  and  by  he  took  another  drink,  and  pretty  soon  he 
begun  to  sing.  It  was  dark  now,  and  getting  black 
and  stormy.  He  went  on  singing,  wilder  and  wilder, 
and  the  thunder  begun  to  mutter,  and  the  wind  to 
wheeze  and  moan  among  the  ropes,  and  altogether  it 
was  awful.  It  got  so  black  we  couldn't  see  him  any 
more,  and  wished  we  couldn't  hear  him,  but  we  could. 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  41 

Then  he  got  still;  but  he  warn't  still  ten  minutes  till 
we  got  suspicious,  and  wished  he  would  start  up  his 
noise  again,  so  we  could  tell  where  he  was.  By  and  by 
there  was  a  flash  of  lightning,  and  we  see  him  start  to 
get  up,  but  he  staggered  and  fell  down.  We  heard 
him  scream  out  in  the  dark : 

"  They  don't  want  to  go  to  England.  All  right,  I'll 
change  the  course.  They  want  to  leave  me.  I  know 
they  do.  Well,  they  shall  —  and  now  /' ' 

I  'most  died  when  he  said  that.  Then  he  was  still 
again  —  still  so  long  I  couldn't  bear  it,  and  it  did  seem 
to  me  the  lightning  wouldn't  ever  come  again.  But  at 
last  there  was  a  blessed  flash,  and  there  he  was,  on  his 
hands  and  knees  crawling,  and  not  four  feet  from  us. 
My,  but  his  eyes  was  terrible !  He  made  a  lunge  for 
Tom,  and  says,  "Overboard  you  go!"  but  it  was 
already  pitch-dark  again,  and  I  couldn't  see  whether 
he  got  him  or  not,  and  Tom  didn't  make  a  sound. 

There  was  another  long,  horrible  wait;  then  there 
was  a  flash,  and  I  see  Tom's  head  sink  down  outside 
the  boat  and  disappear.  He  was  on  the  rope-ladder 
that  dangled  down  in  the  air  from  the  gunnel.  The 
professor  let  off  a  shout  and  jumped  for  him,  and 
straight  off  it  was  pitch-dark  again,  and  Jim  groaned 
out,  "  Po'  Mars  Tom,  he's  a  goner!"  and  made  a 
jump  for  the  professor,  but  the  professor  warn't  there. 

Then  we  heard  a  couple  of  terrible  screams,  and  then 
another  not  so  loud,  and  then  another  that  was  'way 
below,  and  you  could  only  just  hear  it;  and  I  heard 
Jim  say,  "  Po'  Mars  Tom!" 


42  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

Then  it  was  awful  still,  and  I  reckon  a  person  could 
'a*  counted  four  thousand  before  the  next  flash  come. 
When  it  come  I  see  Jim  on  his  knees,  with  his  arms 
on  the  locker  and  his  face  buried  in  them,  and  he  was 
crying.  Before  I  could  look  over  the  edge  it  was  all 
dark  again,  and  I  was  glad,  because  I  didn't  want  to 
see.  But  when  the  next  flash  come,  I  was  watching, 
and  down  there  I  see  somebody  a-swinging  in  the  wind 
on  the  ladder,  and  it  was  Tom  ! 

"Come  up!"   I  shouts;    "  come  up,  Tom  !" 

His  voice  was  so  weak,  and  the  wind  roared  so,  I 
couldn't  make  out  what  he  said,  but  I  thought  he  asked 
was  the  professor  up  there.  I  shouts: 

"  No,  he's  down  in  the  ocean!  Come  up!  Can 
we  help  you?" 

Of  course,  all  this  in  the  dark. 

"  Huck,  who  is  you  hollerin'  at?" 

"rmhollerin'  at  Tom." 

"  Oh,  Huck,  how  kin  you  act  so,  when  you  know 
po'  Mars  Tom — "  Then  he  let  off  an  awful  scream, 
and  flung  his  head  and  his  arms  back  and  let  off  another 
one,  because  there  was  a  white  glare  just  then,  and  he 
had  raised  up  his  face  just  in  time  to  see  Tom's,  as 
white  as  snow,  rise  above  the  gunnel  and  look  him  right 
in  the  eye.  He  thought  it  was  Tom's  ghost,  you 
see. 

Tom  clumb  aboard,  and  when  Jim  found  it  was  him, 
and  not  his  ghost,  he  hugged  him,  and  called  him  all 
sorts  of  loving  names,  and  carried  on  like  he  was  gone 
crazy,  he  was  so  glad.  Says  I: 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  4) 

"What  did  you  wait  for,  Tom?  Why  didn't  you 
come  up  at  first?" 

"I  dasn't,  Huck.  I  knowed  somebody  plunged 
down  past  me,  but  I  didn't  know  who  it  was  in  the 
dark.  It  could  'a'  been  you,  it  could  'a'  been  Jim." 

That  was  the  way  with  Tom  Sawyer  —  always  sound. 
He  warn't  coming  up  till  he  knowed  where  the  pro 
fessor  was. 

The  storm  let  go  about  this  time  with  all  its  might ; 
and  it  was  dreadful  the  way  the  thunder  boomed  and 
tore,  and  the  lightning  glared  out,  and  the  wind  sung 
and  screamed  in  the  rigging,  and  the  rain  come  down. 
One  second  you  couldn't  see  your  hand  before  you, 
and  the  next  you  could  count  the  threads  in  your  coat- 
sleeve,  and  see  a  whole  wide  desert  of  waves  pitching 
and  tossing  through  a  kind  of  veil  of  rain.  A  storm 
like  that  is  the  loveliest  thing  there  is,  but  it  ain't  at  its 
best  when  you  are  up  in  the  sky  and  lost,  and  it's  wet 
and  lonesome,  and  there's  just  been  a  death  in  the 
family. 

We  set  there  huddled  up  in  the  bow,  and  talked  low 
about  the  poor  professor;  and  everybody  was  sorry 
for  him,  and  sorry  the  world  had  made  fun  of  him  and 
treated  him  so  harsh,  when  he  was  doing  the  best  he 
could,  and  hadn't  a  friend  nor  nobody  to  encourage 
him  and  keep  him  from  brooding  his  mind  away  and 
going  deranged.  There  was  plenty  of  clothes  and 
blankets  and  everything  at  the  other  end,  but  we 
thought  we'd  ruther  take  the  rain  than  go  meddling 
back  there. 


CHAPTER   V. 

LAND 

WE  tried  to  make  some  plans,  but  we  couldn't  come 
to  no  agreement.  Me  and  Jim  was  for  turning 
around  and  going  back  home,  but  Tom  allowed  that 
by  the  time  daylight  come,  so  we  could  see  our  way, 
we  would  be  so  far  toward  England  that  we  might  as 
well  go  there,  and  come  back  in  a  ship,  and  have  the 
glory  of  saying  we  done  it. 

About  midnight  the  storm  quit  and  the  moon  come 
out  and  lit  up  the  ocean,  and  we  begun  to  feel  com- 
tortable  and  drowsy;  so  we  stretched  out  on  the 
lockers  and  went  to  sleep,  and  never  woke  up  again 
till  sun-up.  The  sea  was  sparkling  like  di'monds,  and 
it  was  nice  weather,  and  pretty  soon  our  things  was  all 
dry  again. 

We  went  aft  to  find  some  breakfast,  and  the  first 
thing  we  noticed  was  that  there  was  a  dim  light  burning 
in  a  compass  back  there  under  a  hood.  Then  Tom  was 
disturbed.  He  says: 

"You  know  what  that  means,  easy  enough.  It 
means  that  somebody  has  got  to  stay  on  watch  and 
steer  this  thing  the  same  as  he  would  a  ship,  or  she'll 

(44) 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  45 

wander  around  and  go  wherever  the  wind  wants  her 
to." 

"Well,"  I  says,  "what's  she  been  doing 'since  — 
er  —  since  we  had  the  accident?" 

"  Wandering,"  he  says,  kinder  troubled — "  wander 
ing,  without  any  doubt.  She's  in  a  wind  now  that's 
blowing  her  south  of  east.  We  don't  know  how  long 
that's  been  going  on,  either." 

So  then  he  p'inted  her  east,  and  said  he  would  hold 
her  there  till  we  rousted  out  the  breakfast.  The  pro- 
fessor  had  laid  in  everything  a  body  could  want;  he 
couldn't  'a'  been  better  fixed.  There  wasn't  no  milk 
for  the  coffee,  but  there  was  water,  and  everything 
else  you  could  want,  and  a  charcoal  stove  and  the 
fixings  for  it,  and  pipes  and  cigars  and  matches ;  and 
wine  and  liquor,  which  warn't  in  our  line;  and  books, 
and  maps,  and  charts,  and  an  accordion;  and  furs, 
and  blankets,  and  no  end  of  rubbish,  like  brass  beads 
and  brass  jewelry,  which  Tom  said  was  a  sure  sign  that 
he  had  an  idea  of  visiting  among  savages.  There  was 
money,  too.  Yes,  the  professor  was  well  enough  fixed. 

After  breakfast  Tom  learned  me  and  Jim  how  to 
steer,  and  divided  us  all  up  into  four-hour  watches, 
turn  and  turn  about;  and  when  his  watch  was  out  I 
took  his  place,  and  he  got  out  the  professor's  papers 
and  pens  and  wrote  a  letter  home  to  his  aunt  Polly,  tell 
ing  her  everything  that  had  happened  to  us,  and  dated 
it  "7/2  the  Welkin,  approaching  England,"  and  folded 
it  together  and  stuck  it  fast  with  a  red  wafer,  and 
directed  it,  and  wrote  above  the  direction,  in  big 


46  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

writing,"  From  Tom  Sawyer,  the  Erronort"  and  said 
it  would  stump  old  Nat  Parsons,  the  postmaster,  when 
it  come  along  in  the  mail.  I  says: 

"  Tom  Sawyer,  this  ain't  no  welkin;   it's  a  balloon." 

"  Well,  now,  who  said  it  was  a  welkin,  smarty?" 

"  You've  wrote  it  on  the  letter,  anyway." 

"What  of  it?  That  don't  mean  that  the  balloon's 
the  welkin." 

"Oh,  I  thought  it  did.  Well,  then,  what  is  a 
welkin?" 

I  see  in  a  minute  he  was  stuck.  He  raked  and 
scraped  around  in  his  mind,  but  he  couldn't  find  noth 
ing,  so  he  had  to  say: 

"/don't  know,  and  nobody  don't  know.  It's  just 
a  word,  and  it's  a  mighty  good  word,  too.  There 
ain't  many  that  lays  over  it.  I  don't  believe  there's 
any  that  does." 

"Shucks!"  I  says.  "But  what  does  it  mean?  — 
that's  the  p'int." 

"/  don't  know  what  it  means,  I  tell  you.  It's  a 
word  that  people  uses  for  —  for  —  well,  it's  orna 
mental.  They  don't  put  ruffles  on  a  shirt  to  keep  a 
person  warm,  do  they?" 

"  Course  they  don't." 

"  But  they  put  them  on,  don't  they?" 

"Yes." 

"All  right,  then;  that  letter  I  wrote  is  a  shirt,  and 
the  welkin's  the  ruffle  on  it." 

I  judged  that  that  would  gravel  Jim,  and  it  did. 

"Now,  Mars  Tom,  it  ain't  no  use  to  talk  like  dat; 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  47 

en,  moreover,  it's  sinful.  You  knows  a  letter  ain't  no 
shirt,  en  dey  ain't  no  ruffles  on  it,  nuther.  Dey  ain't 
no  place  to  put  'em  on;  you  can't  put  'em  on,  and 
dey  wouldn't  stay  ef  you  did." 

"  Oh,  do  shut  up,  and  wait  till  something's  started 
that  you  know  something  about." 

"Why,  Mars  Tom,  sholy  you  can't  mean  to  say  I 
don't  know  about  shirts,  when,  goodness  knows,  I's 
toted  home  de  washin'  ever  sence — " 

"  I  tell  you,  this  hasn't  got  anything  to  do  with 
shirts.  I  only — " 

"  Why,  Mars  Tom,  you  said  yo'self  dat  a  letter — " 

"Do  you  want  to  drive  me  crazy?  Keep  still.  I 
only  used  it  as  a  metaphor." 

That  word  kinder  bricked  us  up  for  a  minute.  Then 
Jim  says  —  rather  timid,  because  he  see  Tom  was  get 
ting  pretty  tetchy : 

"  Mars  Tom,  what  is  a  metaphor?" 

"A  metaphor's  a  —  well,  it's  a  —  a- — a  metaphor's 
an  illustration."  He  see  that  didn't  git  home,  so  he 
tried  again.  "When  I  say  birds  of  a  feather  flocks 
together,  it's  a  metaphorical  way  of  saying — " 

"But  dey  don't,  Mars  Tom.  No,  sir,  'deed  dey 
don't.  Dey  ain't  no  feathers  dat's  more  alike  den  a 
bluebird  en  a  jaybird,  but  ef  you  waits  till  you  catches 
dem  birds  together,  you'll — " 

"Oh,  give  us  a  rest!  You  can't  get  the  simplest 
little  thing  through  your  thick  skull.  Now  don't  bother 
me  any  more." 

Jim  was  satisfied  to  stop.     He  was  dreadful  pleased 


48  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

with  himself  for  catching  Tom  out.  The  minute  Tom 
begun  to  talk  about  birds  I  judged  he  was  a  goner, 
because  Jim  knowed  more  about  birds  than  both  of  us 
put  together.  You  see,  he  had  killed  hundreds  and 
hundreds  of  them,  and  that's  the  way  to  find  out 
about  birds.  That's  the  way  people  does  that  writes 
books  about  birds,  and  loves  them  so  that  they'll 
go  hungry  and  tired  and  take  any  amount  of  trouble  to 
find  a  new  bird  and  kill  it.  Their  name  is  ornitholo- 
gers,  and  I  could  have  been  an  ornithologer  myself, 
because  I  always  loved  birds  and  creatures;  and  I 
started  out  to  learn  how  to  be  one,  and  I  see  a  bird 
setting  on  a  limb  of  a  high  tree,  singing  with  its  head 
tilted  back  and  its  mouth  open,  and  before  I  thought  I 
fired,  and  his  song  stopped  and  he  fell  straight  down 
from  the  limb,  all  limp  like  a  rag,  and  I  run  and  picked 
him  up  and  he  was  dead,  and  his  body  was  warm  in  my 
hand,  and  his  head  rolled  about  this  way  and  that,  like 
his  neck  was  broke,  and  there  was  a  little  white  skin 
over  his  eyes,  and  one  little  drop  of  blood  on  the  side 
of  his  head;  and,  laws!  I  couldn't  see  nothing  more 
for  the  tears;  and  I  hain't  never  murdered  no  creature 
since  that  warn't  doing  me  no  harm,  and  I  ain't  going 
to. 

But  I  was  aggravated  about  that  welkin.  I  wanted 
to  know.  I  got  the  subject  up  again,  and  then  Tom 
explained,  the  best  he  could.  He  said  when  a  person 
made  a  big  speech  the  newspapers  said  the  shouts  of 
the  people  made  the  welkin  ring.  He  said  they  always 
said  that,  but  none  of  them  ever  told  what  it  was,  so 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  49 

he  allowed  it  just  meant  outdoors  and  up  high.  Well, 
that  seemed  sensible  enough,  so  I  was  satisfied,  and 
said  so.  That  pleased  Tom  and  put  him  in  a  good 
humor  again,  and  he  says: 

"Well,  it's  all  right,  then;  and  we'll  let  bygones 
be  bygones.  I  don't  know  for  certain  what  a  welkin 
is,  but  when  we  land  in  London  we'll  make  it  ring, 
anyway,  and  don't  you  forget  it." 

He  said  an  erronort  was  a  person  who  sailed  around 
in  balloons ;  and  said  it  was  a  mighty  sight  finer  to  be 
Tom  Sawyer  the  Erronort  than  to  be  Tom  Sawyer  the 
Traveler,  and  we  would  be  heard  of  all  round  the 
world,  if  we  pulled  through  all  right,  and  so  he  wouldn't 
give  shucks  to  be  a  traveler  now. 

Toward  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  we  got  every 
thing  ready  to  land,  and  we  felt  pretty  good,  too,  and 
proud ;  and  we  kept  watching  with  the  glasses,  like 
Columbus  discovering  America.  But  we  couldn't  see 
nothing  but  ocean.  The  afternoon  wasted  out  and  the 
sun  shut  down,  a'nd  still  there  warn't  no  land  any 
wheres.  We  wondered  what  was  the  matter,  but 
reckoned  it  would  come  out  all  right,  so  we  went  on 
steering  east,  but  went  up  on  a  higher  level  so  we 
wouldn't  hit  any  steeples  or  mountains  in  the  dark. 

It  was  my  watch  till  midnight,  and  then  it  was  Jim's; 
but  Tom  stayed  up,  because  he  said  ship  captains  done 
that  when  they  was  making  the  land,  and  didn't  stand 
no  regular  watch. 

Well,  when  daylight  come,  Jim  give  a  shout,  and  we 
jumped  up  and  looked  over,  and  there  was  the  land 
4** 


50  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

sure  enough  —  land  all  around,  as  far  as  you  could  see, 
and  perfectly  level  and  yaller.  We  didn't  know  how 
long  we'd  been  over  it.  There  warn't  no  trees,  nor 
hills,  nor  rocks,  nor  towns,  and  Tom  and  Jim  had  took 
it  for  the  sea.  They  took  it  for  the  sea  in  a  dead 
ca'm;  but  we  was  so  high  up,  anyway,  that  if  it  had 
been  the  sea  and  rough,  it  would  'a'  looked  smooth,  all 
the  same,  in  the  night,  that  way. 

We  was  all  in  a  powerful  excitement  now,  and 
grabbed  the  glasses  and  hunted  everywheres  for  Lon 
don,  but  couldn't  find  hair  nor  hide  of  it,  nor  any 
other  settlement  —  nor  any  sign  of  a  lake  or  a  river, 
either.  Tom  was  clean  beat.  He  said  it  warn't  his 
notion  of  England ;  he  thought  England  looked  like 
America,  and  always  had  that  idea.  So  he  said  we 
better  have  breakfast,  and  then  drop  down  and  inquire 
the  quickest  way  to  London.  We  cut  the  breakfast 
pretty  short,  we  was  so  impatient.  As  we  slanted 
along  down,  the  weather  began  to  moderate,  and 
pretty  soon  we  shed  our  furs.  But  it  kept  on  moder 
ating,  and  in  a  precious  little  while  it  was  'most  too 
moderate.  We  was  close  down  now,  and  just  blistering  ! 

We  settled  down  to  within  thirty  foot  of  the  land  — 
that  is,  it  was  land  if  sand  is  land ;  for  this  wasn't  any 
thing  but  pure  sand.  Tom  and  me  clumb  down  the 
ladder  and  took  a  run  to  stretch  our  legs,  and  it  felt 
amazing  good  —  that  is,  the  stretching  did,  but  the 
sand  scorched  our  feet  like  hot  embers.  Next,  we  see 
somebody  coming,  and  started  to  meet  him ;  but  we 
heard  Jim  shout,  and  looked  around  and  he  was  fairly 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  51 

dancing,  and  making  signs,  and  yelling.  We  couldn't 
make  out  what  he  said,  but  we  was  scared  anyway,  and 
begun  to  heel  it  back  to  the  balloon.  When  we  got 
close  enough,  we  understood  the  words,  and  they 
made  me  sick: 

"  Run!  Run  fo'  yo'  life!  Hit's  a  lion;  I  kin  see 
him  thoo  de  glass!  Run,  boys;  do  please  heel  it  de 
bes'  you  kin.  He's  bu'sted  outen  de  menagerie,  en 
dey  ain't  nobody  to  stop  him!" 

It  made  Tom  fly,  but  it  took  the  stiffening  all  out  of 
my  legs.  I  could  only  just  gasp  along  the  way  you  do 
in  a  dream  when  there's  a  ghost  gaining  on  you. 

Tom  got  to  the  ladder  and  shinned  up  it  a  piece  and 
waited  for  me ;  and  as  soon  as  I  got  a  foothold  on  it 
he  shouted  to  Jim  to  soar  away.  But  Jim  had  clean 
lost  his  head,  and  said  he  had  forgot  how.  So  Tom 
shinned  along  up  and  told  me  to  follow ;  but  the  lion 
was  arriving,  fetching  a  most  ghastly  roar  with  every 
lope,  and  my  legs  shook  so  I  dasn't  try  to  take  one  of 
them  out  of  the  rounds  for  fear  the  other  one  would 
give  way  under  me. 

But  Tom  was  aboard  by  this  time,  and  he  started  the 
balloon  up  a  little,  and  stopped  it  again  as  soon  as  the 
end  of  the  ladder  was  ten  or  twelve  feet  above  ground. 
And  there  was  the  lion,  a-ripping  around  under  me, 
and  roaring  and  springing  up  in  the  air  at  the  ladder, 
and  only  missing  it  about  a  quarter  of  an  inch,  it 
seemed  to  me.  It  was  delicious  to  be  out  of  his  reach, 
perfectly  delicious,  and  made  me  feel  good  and  thank 
ful  all  up  one  side ;  but  I  was  hanging  there  helpless 

D*« 


52  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

and  couldn't  climb,  and  that  made  me  feel  perfectly 
wretched  and  miserable  all  down  the  other.  It  is  most 
seldom  that  a  person  feels  so  mixed  like  that ;  and  it  is 
not  to  be  recommended,  either. 

Tom  asked  me  what  he'd  better  do,  but  I  didn't 
know.  He  asked  me  if  I  could  hold  on  whilst  he  sailed 
away  to  a  safe  place  and  left  the  lion  behind.  I  said  I 
could  if  he  didn't  go  no  higher  than  he  was  now;  but 
if  he  went  higher  I  would  lose  my  head  and  fall,  sure. 
So  he  said,  "  Take  a  good  grip,"  and  he  started. 

"Don't  go  so  fast,"  I  shouted.  "It  makes  my 
head  swim." 

He  had  started  like  a  lightning  express.  He  slowed 
down,  and  we  glided  over  the  sand  slower,  but  still  in 
a  kind  of  sickening  way ;  for  it  is  uncomfortable  to  see 
things  sliding  and  gliding  under  you  like  that,  and  not 
a  sound. 

But  pretty  soon  there  was  plenty  of  sound,  for  the 
lion  was  catching  up.  His  noise  fetched  others.  You 
could  see  them  coming  on  the  lope  from  every  direc 
tion,  and  pretty  soon  there  was  a  couple  of  dozen  of 
them  under  me,  jumping  up  at  the  ladder  and  snarling 
and  snapping  at  each  other ;  and  so  we  went  skimming 
along  over  the  sand,  and  these  fellers  doing  what  they 
could  to  help  us  to  not  forgit  the  occasion ;  and  then 
some  other  beasts  come,  without  an  invite,  and  they 
started  a  regular  riot  down  there. 

We  see  this  plan  was  a  mistake.  We  couldn't  ever 
git  away  from  them  at  this  gait,  and  I  couldn't  hold  on 
forever.  So  Tom  took  a  think,  and  struck  another 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  53 

idea.  That  was,  to  kill  a  lion  with  the  pepper-box 
revolver,  and  then  sail  away  while  the  others  stopped 
to  fight  over  the  carcass.  So  he  stopped  the  balloon 
still,  and  done  it,  and  then  we  sailed  off  while  the  fuss 
was  going  on,  and  come  down  a  quarter  of  a  mile  off, 
and  they  helped  me  aboard ;  but  by  the  time  we  was 
out  of  reach  again,  that  gang  was  on  hand  once  more. 
And  when  they  see  we  was  really  gone  and  they 
couldn't  get  us,  they  sat  down  on  their  hams  and 
looked  up  at  us  so  kind  of  disappointed  that  it  was  as 
much  as  a  person  could  do  not  to  see  their  side  of  the 
matter. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

IT'S  A  CARAVAN 

I  WAS  so  weak  that  the  only  thing  I  wanted  was  a 
chance  to  lay  down,  so  I  made  straight  for  my 
locker-bunk,  and  stretched  myself  out  there.  But  a 
body  couldn't  get  back  his  strength  in  no  such  oven  as 
that,  so  Tom  give  the  command  to  soar,  and  Jim 
started  her  aloft. 

We  had  to  go  up  a  mile  before  we  struck  comfort 
able  weather  where  it  was  breezy  and  pleasant  and  just 
right,  and  pretty  soon  I  was  all  straight  again.  Tom 
had  been  setting  quiet  and  thinking;  but  now  he  jumps 
up  and  says: 

41 1  bet  you  a  thousand  to  one  /  know  where  we  are. 
We're  in  the  Great  Sahara,  as  sure  as  guns !" 

He  was  so  excited  he  couldn't  hold  still;  but  I 
wasn't.  I  says : 

"Well,  then,  where's  the  Great  Sahara?  In  Eng 
land  or  in  Scotland?" 

"  'Tain't  in  either;   it's  in  Africa." 

Jim's  eyes  bugged  out,  and  he  begun  to  stare  down 
with  no  end  of  interest,  because  that  was  where  his 
originals  come  from;  but  I  didn't  more  than  half  be- 

(54) 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  55 

lieve  it.     I  couldn't,  you  know;   it  seemed  too  awful 
far  away  for  us  to  have  traveled. 

But  Tom  was  full  of  his  discovery,  as  he  called  it, 
and  said  the  lions  and  the  sand  meant  the  Great  Desert, 
sure.  He  said  he  could  'a'  found  out,  before  we 
sighted  land,  that  we  was  crowding  the  land  some- 
wheres,  if  he  had  thought  of  one  thing;  and  when  we 
asked  him  what,  he  said : 

'These  clocks,  They're  chronometers.  You  al 
ways  read  about  them  in  sea  voyages.  One  of  them 
is  keeping  Grinnage  time,  and  the  other  is  keeping  St. 
Louis  time,  like  my  watch.  When  we  left  St.  Louis  it 
was  four  in  the  afternoon  by  my  watch  and  this  clock, 
and  it  was  ten  at  night  by  this  Grinnage  clock.  Well, 
at  this  time  of  the  year  the  sun  sets  at  about  seven 
o'clock.  Now  I  noticed  the  time  yesterday  evening 
when  the  sun  went  down,  and  it  was  half -past  five 
o'clock  by  the  Grinnage  clock,  and  half  past  1 1  A.  M. 
by  my  watch  and  the  other  clock.  You  see,  the  sun 
rose  and  set  by  my  watch  in  St.  Louis,  and  the  Grin 
nage  clock  was  six  hours  fast;  but  we've  come  so  far 
east  that  it  comes  within  less  than  half  an  hour  of  set 
ting  by  the  Grinnage  clock  now,  and  I'm  away  out  — 
more  than  four  hours  and  a  half  out.  You  see,  that 
meant  that  we  was  closing  up  on  the  longitude  of 
Ireland,  and  would  strike  it  before  long  if  we  was 
p'inted  right  —  which  we  wasn't.  No,  sir,  we've  been 
a-wandering — wandering  'way  down  south  of  east,  and 
it's  my  opinion  we  are  in  Africa.  Look  at  this  map. 
You  see  how  the  shoulder  of  Africa  sticks  out  to  the 


56  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

west.  Think  how  fast  we've  traveled ;  if  we  had  gone 
straight  east  we  would  be  long  past  England  by  this 
time.  You  watch  for  noon,  all  of  you,  and  we'll  stand 
up,  and  when  we  can't  cast  a  shadow  we'll  find  that 
this  Grinnage  clock  is  coming  mighty  close  to  marking 
twelve.  Yes,  sir,  /think  we're  in  Africa;  and  it's  just 
bully." 

Jim  was  gazing  down  with  the  glass.  He  shook  his 
head  and  says : 

"  Mars  Tom,  I  reckon  dey's  a  mistake  som'er's.  I 
hain't  seen  no  niggers  yit." 

"That's  nothing;  they  don't  live  in  the  desert. 
What  is  that,  'way  off  yonder?  Gimme  a  glass." 

He  took  a  long  look,  and  said  it  was  like  a  black 
string  stretched  across  the  sand,  but  he  couldn't  guess 
what  it  was. 

"Well,"  I  says,  "I  reckon  maybe  you've  got  a 
chance  now  to  find  out  whereabouts  this  balloon  is, 
because  as  like  as  not  that  is  one  of  these  lines  here, 
that's  on  the  map,  that  you  call  meridians  of  longi 
tude,  and  we  can  drop  down  and  look  at  its  number, 
and--" 

"  Oh,  shucks,  Huck  Finn,  I  never  see  such  a  lunk 
head  as  you.  Did  you  s'pose  there's  meridians  of 
longitude  on  the  earth  ?" 

"Tom  Sawyer,  they're  set  down  on  the  map,  and 
you  know  it  perfectly  well,  and  here  they  are,  and  you 
can  see  for  yourself." 

44  Of  course  they're  on  the  map,  but  that's  nothing; 
there  ain't  any  on  the  ground." 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  57 

"  Tom,  do  you  know  that  to  be  so?" 

"Certainly  I  do." 

"Well,  then,  that  map's  a  liar  again.  I  never  see 
such  a  liar  as  that  map." 

He  fired  up  at  that,  and  I  was  ready  for  him,  and 
Jim  was  warming  his  opinion,  too,  and  next  minute 
we'd  'a'  broke  loose  on  another  argument,  if  Tom 
hadn't  dropped  the  glass  and  begun  to  clap  his  hands 
like  a  maniac  and  sing  out : 

"Camels!  — Camels!" 

So  I  grabbed  a  glass  and  Jim,  too,  and  took  a  look, 
but  I  was  disappointed,  and  says: 

11  Camels  your  granny;   they're  spiders." 

"Spiders  in  a  desert,  you  shad?  Spiders  walking 
in  a  procession?  You  don't  ever  reflect,  Huck  Finn, 
and  I  reckon  you  really  haven't  got  anything  to 
reflect  with.  Don't  you  know  we're  as  much  as  a 
mile  up  in  the  air,  and  that  that  string  of  crawlers  is 
two  or  three  miles  away?  Spiders,  good  land  !  Spiders 
as  big  as  a  cow?  Perhaps  you'd  like  to  go  down 
and  milk  one  of  'em.  But  they're  camels,  just  the 
same.  It's  a  caravan,  that's  what  it  is,  and  it's  a  mile 
long." 

"Well,  then,  let's  go  down  and  look  at  it.  I 
don't  believe  in  it,  and  ain't  going  to  till  I  see  it  and 
know  it." 

"All  right,"  he  says,  and  give  the  command: 
"  Lower  away." 

As  we  come  slanting  down  into  the  hot  weather,  we 
could  see  that  it  was  camels,  sure  enough,  plodding 


58  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

along,  an  everlasting  string  of  them,  with  bales  strapped 
to  them,  and  several  hundred  men  in  long  white  robes, 
and  a  thing  like  a  shawl  bound  over  their  heads  and 
hanging  down  with  tassels  and  fringes ;  and  some  of 
the  men  had  long  guns  and  some  hadn't,  and  some 
was  riding  and  some  was  walking.  And  the  weather  — 
well,  it  was  just  roasting.  And  how  slow  they  did 
creep  along!  We  swooped  down  now,  all  of  a 
sudden,  and  stopped  about  a  hundred  yards  over  their 
heads. 

The  men  all  set  up  a  yell,  and  some  of  them  fell  flat 
on  their  stomachs,  some  begun  to  fire  their  guns  at  us, 
and  the  rest  broke  and  scampered  every  which  way, 
and  so  did  the  camels. 

We  see  that  we  was  making  trouble,  so  we  went  up 
again  about  a  mile,  to  the  cool  weather,  and  watched 
them  from  there.  It  took  them  an  hour  to  get  together 
and  form  the  procession  again ;  then  they  started  along, 
but  we  could  see  by  the  glasses  that  they  wasn't  pay 
ing  much  attention  to  anything  but  us.  We  poked 
along,  looking  down  at  them  with  the  glasses,  and  by 
and  by  we  see  a  big  sand  mound,  and  something  like 
people  the  other  side  of  it,  and  there  was  something 
like  a  man  laying  on  top  of  the  mound  that  raised  his 
head  up  every  now  and  then,  and  seemed  to  be  watch 
ing  the  caravan  or  us,  we  didn't  know  which.  As  the 
caravan  got  nearer,  he  sneaked  down  on  the  other  side 
and  rushed  to  the  other  men  and  horses  —  for  that  is 
what  they  was  —  and  we  see  them  mount  in  a  hurry; 
and  next,  here  they  come,  like  a  house  afire,  some  with 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  59 

lances  and  some  with  long  guns,  and  all  of  them  yell 
ing  the  best  they  could. 

They  come  a-tearing  down  on  to  the  caravan,  and  the 
next  minute  both  sides  crashed  together  and  was  all 
mixed  up,  and  there  was  such  another  popping  of  guns 
as  you  never  heard,  and  the  air  got  so  full  of  smoke 
you  could  only  catch  glimpses  of  them  struggling 
together.  There  must  'a'  been  six  hundred  men  in 
that  battle,  and  it  was  terrible  to  see.  Then  they 
broke  up  into  gangs  and  groups,  fighting  tooth  and 
nail,  and  scurrying  and  scampering  around,  and  laying 
into  each  other  like  everything;  and  whenever  the 
smoke  cleared  a  little  you  could  see  dead  and  wounded 
people  and  camels  scattered  far  and  wide  and  all  about, 
and  camels  racing  off  in  every  direction. 

At  last  the  robbers  see  they  couldn't  win,  so  their 
chief  sounded  a  signal,  and  all  that  was  left  of  them 
broke  away  and  went  scampering  across  the  plain. 
The  last  man  to  go  snatched  up  a  child  and  carried  it 
off  in  front  of  him  on  his  horse,  and  a  woman  run 
screaming  and  begging  after  him,  and  followed  him 
away  off  across  the  plain  till  she  was  separated  a  long 
ways  from  her  people;  but  it  warn't  no  use,  and  she 
had  to  give  it  up,  and  we  see  her  sink  down  on  the 
sand  and  cover  her  face  with  her  hands.  Then  Tom 
took  the  helium,  and  started  for  that  yahoo,  and  we 
come  a-whizzing  down  and  made  a  swoop,  and  knocked 
him  out  of  the  saddle,  child  and  all;  and  he  was  jarred 
considerable,  but  the  child  wasn't  hurt,  but  laid  there 
working  its  hands  and  legs  in  the  air  like  a  tumble-bug 


60  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

that's  on  its  back  and  can't  turn  over.  The  man  went 
staggering  off  to  overtake  his  horse,  and  didn't  know 
what  had  hit  him,  for  we  was  three  or  four  hundred 
yards  up  in  the  air  by  this  time. 

We  judged  the  woman  would  go  and  get  the  child 
now;  but  she  didn't.  We  could  see  her,  through  the 
glass,  still  setting  there,  with  her  head  bowed  down  on 
her  knees;  so  of  course  she  hadn't  seen  the  perform 
ance,  and  thought  her  child  was  clean  gone  with  the 
man.  She  was  nearly  a  half  a  mile  from  her  people, 
so  we  thought  we  might  go  down  to  the  child,  which 
was  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile  beyond  her,  and  snake 
it  to  her  before  the  caravan  people  could  git  to  us  to 
do  us  any  harm ;  and  besides,  we  reckoned  they  had 
enough  business  on  their  hands  for  one  while,  anyway, 
with  the  wounded.  We  thought  we'd  chance  it,  and 
we  did.  We  swooped  down  and  stopped,  and  Jim 
shinned  down  the  ladder  and  fetched  up  the  kid,  which 
was  a  nice  fat  little  thing,  and  in  a  noble  good  humor, 
too,  considering  it  was  just  out  of  a  battle  and  been 
tumbled  off  of  a  horse ;  and  then  we  started  for  the 
mother,  and  stopped  back  of  her  and  tolerable  near 
by,  and  Jim  slipped  down  and  crept  up  easy,  and  when 
he  was  close  back  of  her  the  child  goo-goo'd,  the  way 
a  child  does,  and  she  heard  it,  and  whirled  and  fetched 
a  shriek  of  joy,  and  made  a  jump  for  the  kid  and 
snatched  it  and  hugged  it,  and  dropped  it  and  hugged 
Jim,  and  then  snatched  off  a  gold  chain  and  hung  it 
around  Jim's  neck,- and  hugged  him  again,  and  jerked 
up  the  child  again,  a-sobbing  and  glorifying  all  the 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  61 

time ;  and  Jim  he  shoved  for  the  ladder  and  up  it,  and 
in  a  minute  we  was  back  up  in  the  sky  and  the  woman 
was  staring  up,  with  the  back  of  her  head  between  her 
shoulders  and  the  child  with  its  arms  locked  around 
her  neck.  And  there  she  stood,  as  long  as  we  was  in 
sight  a-sailing  away  in  the  skv. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

TOM   RESPECTS  THE  FLEA 

«\  |OON!"  says  Tom,  and  so  it  was.  His  shadder 
1  ^"  was  just  a  blot  around  his  feet.  We  looked, 
and  the  Grinnage  clock  was  so  close  to  twelve  the 
difference  didn't  amount  to  nothing.  So  Tom  said 
London  was  right  north  of  us  or  right  south  of  us,  one 
or  t'other,  and  he  reckoned  by  the  weather  and  the 
sand  and  the  camels  it  was  north ;  and  a  good  many 
miles  north,  too ;  as  many  as  from  New  York  to  the 
city 'of  Mexico,  he  guessed. 

Jim  said  he  reckoned  a  balloon  was  a  good  deal  the 
fastest  thing  in  the  world,  unless  it  might  be  some 
kinds  of  birds  —  a  wild  pigeon,  maybe,  or  a  railroad. 

But  Tom  said  he  had  read  about  railroads  in  England 
going  nearly  a  hundred  miles  an  hour  for  a  little  ways, 
and  there  never  was  a  bird  in  the  world  that  could  do 
that  —  except  one,  and  that  was  a  flea. 

"A  flea?  Why,  Mars  Tom,  in  de  fust  place  he 
ain't  a  bird,  strickly  speakin' — " 

"  He  ain't  a  bird,  eh?     Well,  then,  what  is  he?" 
"  I  don't  rightly  know,  Mars  Tom,  but  I  speck  he's 
only  jist  a'  animal.    No,  I  reckon  dat  won't  do,  nuther, 

(62) 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  63 

he  ain't  big  enough  for  a'  animal.      He  mus'  be  a  bug. 
Yassir,  dat's  what  he  is,  he's  a  bug." 

"  I  bet  he  ain't,  but  let  it  go.  What's  your  second 
place?" 

"  Well,  in  de  second  place,  birds  is  creturs  dat  goes 
a  long  ways,  but  a  flea  don't." 

"  He  don't,  don't  he?  Come,  now,  what  is  a  long 
distance,  if  you  know?" 

*'  Why,  it's  miles,  and  lots  of  'em  —  anybody  knows 
dat." 

11  Can't  a  man  walk  miles?" 

"Yassir,  he  kin." 

"  As  many  as  a  railroad?" 

'*  Yassir,  if  you  give  him  time." 

"Can't  a  flea?" 

"Well  —  I  s'pose  so  —  ef  you  gives  him  heaps  of 
time." 

"Now  you  begin  to  see,  don't  you,  that  distance 
ain't  the  thing  to  judge  by,  at  all;  it's  the  time  it  takes 
to  go  the  distance  /;/  that  counts,  ain't  it?" 

"Well,  hit  do  look  sorter  so,  but  I  wouldn't  'a' 
b'lieved  it,  Mars  Tom." 

"  It's  a  matter  of  proportion,  that's  what  it  is;  and 
when  you  come  to  gauge  a  thing's  speed  by  its  size, 
where's  your  bird  and  your  man  and  your  railroad, 
alongside  of  a  flea?  The  fastest  man  can't  run  more 
than  about  ten  miles  in  an  hour — not  much  over  ten 
thousand  times  his  own  length.  But  all  the  books  says 
any  common  ordinary  third-class  flea  can  jump  a  hun 
dred  and  fifty  times  his  own  length ;  yes,  and  he  can 

5 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

make  five  jumps  a  second  too  —  seven  hundred  and 
fifty  times  his  own  length,  in  one  little  second  —  for  he 
don't  fool  away  any  time  stopping  and  starting  —  he 
does  them  both  at  the  same  time;  you'll  see,  if  you 
try  to  put  your  finger  on  him.  Now  that's  a  common, 
ordinary,  third-class  flea's  gait;  but  you  take  an  Eye- 
talian^r^/-class,  that's  been  the  pet  of  the  nobility  all 
his  life,  and  hasn't  ever  knowed  what  want  or  sickness 
or  exposure  was,  and  he  can  jump  more  than  three 
hundred  times  his  own  length,  and  keep  it  up  all  clay, 
five  such  jumps  every  second,  which  is  fifteen  hundred 
times  his  own  length.  Well,  suppose  a  man  could  go 
fifteen  hundred  times  his  own  length  in  a  second  —  say, 
a  mile  and  a  half.  It's  ninety  miles  a  minute;  it's 
considerable  more  than  five  thousand  miles  an  hour. 
Where's  your  man  noiv  ?  —  yes,  and  your  bird,  and 
your  railroad,  and  your  balloon?  Laws,  they  don't 
amount  to  shucks  'longside  of  a  flea.  A  flea  is  just 
a  comet  b'iled  down  small." 

Jim  was  a  good  deal  astonished,  and  so  was  I.  Jim 
said : 

11  Is  dem  figgers  jist  edjackly  true,  en  no  jokin'  en 
no  lies,  Mars  Tcm?" 

"Yes,  they  are;   they're  perfectly  true." 

"  Well,  den,  honey,  a  body's  got  to  respec'  a  flea. 
I  ain't  had  no  respec'  for  um  befo',  sca'sely,  but  dey 
ain't  no  gittin'  roun'  it,  dey  do  deserve  it,  dat's 
certain." 

"Well,  I  bet  they  do.  They've  got  ever  so  much 
more  sense,  and  brains,  and  brightness,  in  proportion 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  65 

to  their  size,  than  any  other  cretur  in  the  world.  A 
person  can  learn  them  'most  anything;  and  they  learn 
it  quicker  than  any  other  cretur,  too.  They've  been 
learnt  to  haul  little  carriages  in  harness,  and  go  this 
way  and  that  way  and  t'other  way  according  to  their 
orders;  yes,  and  to  march  and  drill  like  soldiers,  doing 
it  as  exact,  according  to  orders,  as  soldiers  does  it. 
They've  been  learnt  to  do  all  sorts  of  hard  and 
troublesome  things.  S'pose  you  could  cultivate  a  flea 
up  to  the  size  of  a  man,  and  keep  his  natural 
smartness  a-growing  and  a-growing  right  along  up, 
bigger  and  bigger,  and  keener  and  keener,  in  the  same 
proportion  —  where'd  the  human  race  be,  do  you 
reckon?  That  flea  would  be  President  of  the  United 
States,  and  you  couldn't  any  more  prevent  it  than  you 
can  prevent  lightning." 

"  My  Ian',  Mars  Tom,  I  never  knowed  dey  was  so 
much  to  de  beas'.  No,  sir,  I  never  had  no  idea  of  it, 
and  dat's  de  fac'." 

"  There's  more  to  him,  by  a  long  sight,  than  there 
is  to  any  other  cretur,  man  or  beast,  in  proportion  to 
size.  He's  the  interestingest  of  them  all.  People  have 
so  much  to  say  about  an  ant's  strength,  and  an  ele 
phant's,  and  a  locomotive's.  Shucks,  they  don't  begin 
with  a  flea.  He  can  lift  two  or  three  hundred  times  his 
own  weight.  And  none  of  them  can  come  anywhere 
near  it.  And,  moreover,  he  has  got  notions  of  his 
own,  and  is  very  particular,  and  you  can't  fool  him; 
his  instinct,  or  his  judgment,  or  whatever  it  is,  is  per 
fectly  sound  and  clear,  and  don't  ever  make  a  mistake. 
5** 


66  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

People  think  all  humans  are  alike  to  a  flea.  It  ain't 
so.  There's  folks  that  he  won't  go  near,  hungry  or 
not  hungry,  and  I'm  one  of  them.  I've  never  had  one 
of  them  on  me  in  my  life." 

"Mars  Tom!" 

"It's  so;   I  ain't  joking." 

44  Well,  sah,  I  hain't  ever  heard  de  likes  o'  datbefo'." 

Jim  couldn't  believe  it,  and  I  couldn't;  so  we  had  to 
drop  down  to  the  sand  and  git  a  supply  and  see.  Tom 
was  right.  They  went  for  me  and  Jim  by  the  thou 
sand,  but  not  a  one  of  them  lit  on  Tom.  There  warn't 
no  explaining  it,  but  there  it  was  and  there  warn't  no 
getting  around  it.  He  said  it  had  always  been  just  so, 
and  he'd  just  as  soon  be  where  there  was 'a  million  of 
them  as  not;  they'd  never  touch  him  nor  bother 
him. 

We  went  up  to  the  cold  weather  to  freeze  'em  out, 
and  stayed  a  little  spell,  and  then  come  back  to  the 
comfortable  weather  and  went  lazying  along  twenty  or 
twenty-five  miles  an  hour,  the  way  we'd  been  doing  for 
the  last  few  hours.  The  reason  was,  that  the  longer 
we  was  in  that  solemn,  peaceful  desert,  the  more  the 
hurry  and  fuss  got  kind  of  soothed  down  in  us,  and 
the  more  happier  and  contented  and  satisfied  we  got  to 
feeling,  and  the  more  we  got  to  liking  the  desert,  and 
then  loving  it.  So  we  had  cramped  the  speed  down, 
as  I  was  saying,  and  was  having  a  most  noble  good 
lazy  time,  sometimes  watching  through  the  glasses, 
sometimes  stretched  out  on  the  lockers  reading,  some 
times  taking  a  nap. 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  67 

It  didn't  seem  like  we  was  the  same  lot  that  was  in 
such  a  state  to  find  land  and  git  ashore,  but  it  was. 
But  we  had  got  over  that  —  clean  over  it.  We  was 
used  to  the  balloon  now  and  not  afraid  any  more,  and 
didn't  want  to  be  anywheres  else.  Why,  it  seemed 
just  like  home;  it  'most  seemed  as  if  I  had  been  born 
and  raised  in  it,  and  Jim  and  Tom  said  the  same.  And 
always  I  had  had  hateful  people  around  me,  a-nagging 
at  me,  and  pestering  of  me,  and  scolding,  and  finding 
fault,  and  fussing  and  bothering,  and  sticking  to  me, 
and  keeping  after  me,  and  making  me  do  this,  and 
making  me  do  that  and  t'other,  and  always  selecting 
out  the  things  I  didn't  want  to  do,  and  then  giving  me 
Sam  Hill  because  I  shirked  and  done  something  else, 
and  just  aggravating  the  life  out  of  a  body  all  the  time ; 
but  up  here  in  the  sky  it  was  so  still  and  sunshiny  and 
lovely,  and  plenty  to  eat,  and  plenty  of  sleep,  and 
strange  things  to  see,  and  no  nagging  and  no  pester 
ing,  and  no  good  people,  and  just  holiday  all  the  time. 
Land,  I  warn't  in  no  hurry  to  git  out  and  buck  at 
civilization  again.  Now,  one  of  the  worst  things  about 
civilization  is,  that  anybody  that  gits  a  letter  with 
trouble  in  it  comes  and  tells  you  all  about  it  and  makes 
you  feel  bad,  and  the  newspapers  fetches  you  the 
troubles  of  everybody  all  over  the  world,  and  keeps 
you  downhearted  and  dismal  'most  all  the  time,  and 
it's  such  a  heavy  load  for  a  person.  I  hate  them 
newspapers ;  and  I  hate  letters ;  and  if  I  had  my  way 
I  wouldn't  allow  nobody  to  load  his  troubles  on  to 
other  folks  he  ain't  acquainted  with,  on  t'other  side  of 


68  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

the  world,  that  way.  Well,  up  in  a  balloon  there  ain't 
any  of  that,  and  it's  the  darlingest  place  there  is. 

We  had  supper,  and  that  night  was  one  of  the 
prettiest  nights  I  ever  see.  The  moon  made  it  just 
like  daylight,  only  a  heap  softer ;  and  once  we  see  a 
lion  standing  all  alone  by  himself,  just  all  alone  on  the 
earth,  it  seemed  like,  and  his  shadder  laid  on  the  sand 
by  him  like  a  puddle  of  ink.  That's  the  kind  of  moon 
light  to  have. 

Mainly  we  laid  on  our  backs  and  talked;  we  didn't 
want  to  go  to  sleep.  Tom  said  we  was  right  in  the 
midst  of  the  Arabian  Nights  now.  He  said  it  was  right 
along  here  that  one  of  the  cutest  things  in  that  book 
happened ;  so  we  looked  down  and  watched  while  he 
told  about  it,  because  there  ain't  anything  that  is  so 
interesting  to  look  at  as  a  place  that  a  book  has  talked 
about.  It  was  a  tale  about  a  camel-driver  that  had  lost 
his  camel,  and  he  come  along  in  the  desert  and  met  a 
man,  and  says : 

"  Have  you  run  across  a  stray  camel  to-day?" 

And  the  man  says : 

"  Was  he  blind  in  his  left  eye?" 

"Yes." 

"  Had  he  lost  an  upper  front  tooth?" 

"Yes." 

4 'Was  his  off  hind  leg  lame?" 

"Yes." 

"Was  he  loaded  with  millet-seed  on  one  side  and 
honey  on  the  other?" 

"Yes,  but  you  needn't  go  into  no  more  details  — 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  69 

that's  the  one,  and  I'm  in  a  hurry.  Where  did  you 
see  him?" 

"  I  hain't  seen  him  at  all,"  the  man  says. 

"  Hain't  seen  him  at  all?  How  can  you  describe 
him  so  close,  then?" 

"  Because  when  a  person  knows  how  to  use  his  eyes, 
everything  has  got  a  meaning  to  it;  but  most  people's 
eyes  ain't  any  good  to  them.  I  knowed  a  camel  had 
been  along,  because  I  seen  his  track.  I  knowed  he 
was  lame  in  his  off  hind  leg  because  he  had  favored 
that  foot  and  trod  light  on  it,  and  his  track  showed  it. 
I  knowed  he  was  blind  on  his  left  side  because  he  only 
nibbled  the  grass  on  the  right  side  of  the  trail.  I 
knowed  he  had  lost  an  upper  front  tooth  because  where 
he  bit  into  the  sod  his  teeth-print  showed  it.  The 
millet-seed  sifted  out  on  one  side  —  the  ants  told  me 
that;  the  honey  leaked  out  on  the  other  —  the  flies 
told  me  that.  I  know  all  about  your  camel,  but  I 
hain't  seen  him." 

Jim  says : 

"  Go  on,  Mars  Tom,  hit's  a  mighty  good  tale,  and 
powerful  interestin'." 

"That's  all,"  Tom  says. 

"All?"  says  Jim,  astonished.  "What  'come  o' 
de  camel?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"  Mars  Tom,  don't  de  tale  say?" 

"No." 

Jim  puzzled  a  minute,  then  he  says: 

"  Well !    Ef  dat  ain't  de  beatenes'  tale  ever  /  struck. 


70  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

Jist  gits  to  de  place  whah  de  intrust  is  gittin'  red-hot, 
en  down  she  breaks.  Why,  Mars  Tom,  dey  ain't  no 
sense  in  a  tale  dat  acts  like  dat.  Hain't  you  got  no 
idea  whether  de  man  got  de  camel  back  er  not?" 

"No,  I  haven't." 

I  see  myself  there  warn't  no  sense  in  the  tale,  to 
chop  square  off  that  way  before  it  come  to  anything, 
but  I  warn't  going  to  say  so,  because  I  could  see  Tom 
was  souring  up  pretty  fast  over  the  way  it  flatted  out 
and  the  way  Jim  had  popped  on  to  the  weak  place  in 
it,  and  I  don't  think  it's  fair  for  everybody  to  pile  on 
to  a  feller  when  he's  down.  But  Tom  he  whirls  on 
me  and  says: 

"  What  foyou  think  of  the  tale?" 

Of  course,  then,  I  had  to  come  out  and  make  a  clean 
breast  and  say  it  did  seem  to  me,  too,  same  as  it  did 
to  Jim,  that  as  long  as  the  tale  stopped  square  in  the 
middle  and  never  got  to  no  place,  it  really  warn't 
worth  the  trouble  of  telling. 

Tom's  chin  dropped  on  his  breast,  and  'stead  of 
being  mad,  as  I  reckoned  he'd  be,  to  hear  me  scoff  at 
his  tale  that  way,  he  seemed  to  be  only  sad ;  and  he 
says: 

"Some  people  can  see,  and  some  can't  —  just  as 
that  man  said.  Let  alone  a  camel,  if  a  cyclone  had 
gone  by,  you  duffers  wouldn't  'a'  noticed  the 
track." 

I  don't  know  what  he  meant  by  that,  and  he  didn't 
say;  it  was  just  one  of  his  irrulevances,  I  reckon  —  he 
was  full  of  them,  sometimes,  when  he  was  in  a  close 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  71 

place  and  couldn't  see  no  other  way  out  —  but  I  didn't 
mind.  We'd  spotted  the  soft  place  in  that  tale  sharp 
enough,  he  couldn't  git  away  from  that  little  fact.  It 
graveled  him  like  the  nation,  too,  I  reckon,  much  as 
he  tried  not  to  let  on. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

THE  DISAPPEARING  LAKE 

WE  had  an  early  breakfast  in  the  morning,  and  set 
looking  down  on  the  desert,  and  the  weather 
was  ever  so  bammy  and  lovely,  although  we  warn't 
high  up.  You  have  to  come  down  lower  and  lower 
after  sundown  in  the  desert,  because  it  cools  off  so 
fast;  and  so,  by  the  time  it  is  getting  toward  dawn, 
you  are  skimming  along  only  a  little  ways  above  the 
sand. 

We  was  watching  the  shadder  of  the  balloon  slide 
along  the  ground,  and  now  and  then  gazing  off  across 
the  desert  to  see  if  anything  was  stirring,  and  then 
down  on  the  shadder  again,  when  all  of  a  sudden 
almost  right  under  us  we  see  a  lot  of  men  and  camels 
laying  scattered  about,  perfectly  quiet,  like  they  was 
asleep. 

We  shut  off  the  power,  and  backed  up  and  stood 
over  them,  and  then  we  see  that  they  was  all  dead.  It 
give  us  the  cold  shivers.  And  it  made  us  hush  down, 
too,  and  talk  low,  like  people  at  a  funeral.  We 
dropped  down  slow  and  stopped,  and  me  and  Tom 
dumb  down  and  went  among  them.  There  was  men, 

(72) 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  73 

and  women^  and  children.  They  was  dried  by  the  sun 
and  dark  and  shriveled  and  leathery,  like  the  pictures 
of  mummies  you  see  in  books.  And  yet  they  looked 
just  as  human,  you  wouldn't  'a'  believed  it;  just  like 
they  was  asleep. 

Some  of  the  people  and  animals  was  partly  covered 
with  sand,  but  most  of  them  not,  for  the  sand  was 
thin  there,  and  the  bed  was  gravel  and  hard.  Most 
of  the  clothes  had  rotted  away ;  and  when  you  took 
hold  of  a  rag,  it  tore  with  a  touch,  like  spider- 
web.  Tom  reckoned  they  had  been  laying  there  for 
years. 

Some  of  the  men  had  rusty  guns  by  them,  some  had 
swords  on  and  had  shawl  belts  with  long,  silver- 
mounted  pistols  stuck  in  them.  All  the  camels  had 
their  loads  on  yet,  but  the  packs  had  busted  or  rotted 
and  spilt  the  freight  out  on  the  ground.  We  didn't 
reckon  the  swords  was  any  good  to  the  dead  people 
any  more,  so  we  took  one  apiece,  and  some  pistols. 
We  took  a  small  box,  too,  because  it  was  so  handsome 
and  inlaid  so  fine ;  and  then  we  wanted  to  bury  the 
people ;  but  there  warn't  no  way  to  do  it  that  we  could 
think  of,  and  nothing  to  do  it  with  but  sand,  and  that 
would  blow  away  again,  of  course. 

Then  we  mounted  high  and  sailed  away,  and  pretty 
soon  that  black  spot  on  the  sand  was  out  of  sight,  and 
we  wouldn't  ever  see  them  poor  people  again  in  this 
world.  We  wondered,  and  reasoned,  and  tried  to 
guess  how  they  come  to  be  there,  and  how  it  all  hap 
pened  to  them,  but  we  couldn't  make  it  out.  First  we 


74  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

thought  maybe  they  got  lost,  and  wandered  around  and 
about  till  their  food  and  water  give  out  and  they 
starved  to  death ;  but  Tom  said  no  wild  animals  nor 
vultures  hadn't  meddled  with  them,  and  so  that  guess 
wouldn't  do.  So  at  last  we  give  it  up,  and  judged  we 
wouldn't  think  about  it  no  more,  because  it  made  us 
low-spirited. 

Then  we  opened  the  box,  and  it  had  gems  and  jewels 
in  it,  quite  a  pile,  and  some  little  veils  of  the  kind  the 
dead  women  had  on,  with  fringes  made  out  of  curious 
gold  money  that  we  warn't  acquainted  with.  We 
wondered  if  we  better  go  and  try  to  find  them  again 
and  give  it  back ;  but  Tom  thought  it  over  and  said 
no,  it  was  a  country  that  was  full  of  robbers,  and  they 
would  come  and  steal  it;  and  then  the  sin  would  be  on 
us  for  putting  the  temptation  in  their  way.  So  we 
went  on;  but  I  wished  we  had  took  all  they  had,  so 
there  wouldn't  'a'  been  no  temptation  at  all  left. 

We  had  had  two  hours  of  that  blazing  weather  down 
there,  and  was  dreadful  thirsty  when  we  got  aboard 
again.  We  went  straight  for  the  water,  but  it  was 
spoiled  and  bitter,  besides  being  pretty  near  hot  enough 
to  scald  your  mouth.  We  couldn't  drink  it.  It  was 
Mississippi  river  water,  the  best  in  the  world,  and  we 
stirred  up  the  mud  in  it  to  see  if  that  would  help,  but 
no,  the  mud  wasn't  any  better  than  the  water. 

Well,  we  hadn't  been  so  very,  very  thirsty  before, 
while  we  was  interested  in  the  lost  people,  but  we  was 
now,  and  as  soon  as  we  found  we  couldn't  have  a 
drink,  we  was  more  than  thirty-five  times  as  thirsty  as 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  75 

we  was  a  quarter  of  a  minute  before.  Why,  in  a  little 
while  we  wanted  to  hold  our  mouths  open  and  pant 
like  a  dog. 

Tom  said  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout,  all  around,  every- 
wheres,  because  we'd  got  to  find  an  oasis  or  there 
warn't  no  telling  what  would  happen.  So  we  done  it. 
We  kept  the  glasses  gliding  around  all  the  time,  till  our 
arms  got  so  tired  we  couldn't  hold  them  any  more. 
Two  hours  —  three  hours  —  just  gazing  and  gazing, 
and  nothing  but  sand,  sand,  sand,  and  you  could  see 
the  quivering  heat-shimmer  playing  over  it.  Dear, 
dear,  a  body  don't  know  what  real  misery  is  till  he  is 
thirsty  all  the  way  through  and  is  certain  he  ain't  ever 
going  to  come  to  any  water  any  more.  At  last  I 
couldn't  stand  it  to  look  around  on  them  baking  plains; 
I  laid  down  on  the  locker,  and  give  it  up. 

But  by  and  by  Tom  raised  a  whoop,  and  there  she 
was  !  A  lake,  wide  and  shiny,  with  pa'm-trees  leaning 
over  it  asleep,  and  their  shadders  in  the  water  just  as 
soft  and  delicate  as  ever  you  see.  I  never  see  anything 
look  so  good.  It  was  a  long  ways  off,  but  that 
warn't  anything  to  us;  we  just  slapped  on  a  hundred- 
mile  gait,  and  calculated  to  be  there  in  seven  minutes ; 
but  she  stayed  the  same  old  distance  away,  all  the 
time;  we  couldn't  seem  to  gain  on  her;  yes,  sir,  just  as 
far,  and  shiny,  and  like  a  dream;  but  we  couldn't  get 
no  nearer;  and  at  last,  all  of  a  sudden,  she  was  gone! 

Tom's  eyes  took  a  spread,  and  he  says: 

"Boys,  it  was  a  Bridge!"  Said  it  like  he  was 
glad.  I  didn't  see  nothing  to  be  glad  about.  I  says: 


76  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

11  Maybe.  I  don't  care  nothing  about  its  name,  the 
thing  I  want  to  know  is,  what's  become  of  it?" 

Jim  was  trembling  all  over,  and  so  scared  he  couldn't 
speak,  but  he  wanted  to  ask  that  question  himself  if  he 
could  'a'  done  it.  Tom  says: 

"What's  become  of  it?  Why,  you  see  yourself  it's 
gone." 

"  Yes,  I  know;   but  where' s  it  gone  to  ? " 

He  looked  me  over  and  says : 

"Well,  now,  Huck  Finn,  where  would  it  go  to! 
Don't  you  know  what  a  myridge  is?" 

"No,  I  don't.     What  is  it?" 

"  It  ain't  anything  but  imagination.  There  ain't 
anything  to  it." 

It  warmed  me  up  a  little  to  hear  him  talk  like  that, 
and  I  says : 

11  What's  the  use  you  talking  that  kind  of  stuff,  Tom 
Sawyer?     Didn't  I  see  the  lake?" 
'  Yes  — you  think  you  did." 

"  I  don't  think  nothing  about  it,  I  did  see  it." 

"I  tell  you  you  didri 7  see  it  either  —  because  it 
warn't  there  to  see." 

It  astonished  Jim  to  hear  him  talk  so,  and  he  broke 
in  and  says,  kind  of  pleading  and  distressed : 

"  Mars  Tom,  please  don't  say  sich  things  in  sich  an 
awful  time  as  dis.  You  ain't  only  reskin'  yo'  own 
self,  but  you's  reskin'  us  —  same  way  like  Anna  Nias 
en  Siffira.  De  lake  wuz  dah  —  I  seen  it  jis'  as  plain 
as  I  sees  you  en  Huck  dis  minute." 

I  says: 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  77 

"  Why,  he  seen  it  himself!  He  was  the  very  one 
that  seen  it  first.  Now,  then  !" 

"  Yes,  Mars  Tom,  hit's  so  —  you  can't  deny  it.  We 
all  seen  it,  en  dat  prove  it  was  dah." 

"  Proves  it!     How  does  it  prove  it?" 

"Same  way  it  does  in  de  courts  en  everywheres, 
Mars  Tom.  One  pusson  might  be  drunk,  or  dreamy 
or  suthin',  en  he  could  be  mistaken;  en  two  might, 
maybe;  but  I  tell  you,  sah,  when  three  sees  a  thing, 
drunk  er  sober,  it's  so.  Dey  ain't  no  gittin'  aroun' 
dat,  en  you  knows  it,  Mars  Tom." 

"  I  don't  know  nothing  of  the  kind.  There  used  to 
be  forty  thousand  million  people  that  seen  the  sun 
move  from  one  side  of  the  sky  to  the  other  every  day. 
Did  that  prove  that  the  sun  done  it?" 

41  Course  it  did.  En  besides,  dey  warn't  no  'casion 
to  prove  it.  A  body  'at's  got  any  sense  ain't  gwine  to 
doubt  it.  Dah  she  is  now  —  a  sailin'  thoo  de  sky, 
like  she  allays  done." 

Tom  turned  on  me,  then,  and  says: 

"  What  &v  you  say  —  is  the  sun  standing  still?" 
'  Tom  Sawyer,  what's  the  use  to  ask  such  a  jackass 
question?     Anybody  that  ain't  blind  can  see  it  don't 
stand  still." 

"Well,"  he  says,  "I'm  lost  in  the  sky  with  no 
company  but  a  passel  of  low-down  animals  that  don't 
know  no  more  than  the  head  boss  of  a  university  did 
three  or  four  hundred  years  ago." 

It  warn't  fair  play,  and  I  let  him  know  it.  I 
says: 


78  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

11  Throwin'  mud  ain't  arguin',  Tom  Sawyer." 

14  Oh,  my  goodness,  oh,  my  goodness  gracious, 
dah's  de  lake  agi'n!"  yelled  Jim,  just  then.  "Now, 
Mars  Tom,  what  you  gwine  to  say?" 

Yes,  sir,  there  was  the  lake  again,  away  yonder 
across  the  desert,  perfectly  plain,  trees  and  all,  just 
the  same  as  it  was  before.  I  says: 

44 1  reckon  you're  satisfied  now,  Tom  Sawyer." 

But  he  says,  perfectly  ca'm: 

44  Yes,  satisfied  there  ain't  no  lake  there." 

Jim  says: 

"Don't  talk  so,  Mars  Tom  —  it  sk'yers  me  to  hear 
you.  It's  so  hot,  en  you's  so  thirsty,  dat  you  ain't  in 
yo'  right  mine,  Mars  Tom.  Oh,  but  don't  she  look 
good!  'clah  I  doan'  know  how  I's  gwine  to  wait  tell 
we  gits  dah,  I's  so  thirsty." 

14  Well.,  you'll  have  to  wait;  and  it  won't  do  you  no 
good,  either,  because  there  ain't  no  lake  there,  I  tell 
you." 

I  says : 

44  Jim,  don't  you  take  your  eye  off  of  it,  and  I 
won't,  either." 

44  'Deed  I  won't;  en  bless  you,  honey,  I  couldn't  ef 
I  wanted  to." 

We  went  a-tearing  along  toward  it,  piling  the  miles 
behind  us  like  nothing,  but  never  gaining  an  inch  on  it 
—  and  all  of  a  sudden  it  was  gone  again  !  Jim  stag 
gered,  and  'most  fell  down.  When  he  got  his  breath 
he  says,  gasping  like  a  fish : 

4 'Mars  Tom,  hit's    a  ghos\  dat's  what  it  is,  en  I 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  79 

hopes  to  goodness  we  ain't  gwine  to  see  it  no  mo'. 
Dey's  been  a  lake,  en  suthin's  happened,  en  de  lake's 
dead,  en  we's  seen  its  ghos' ;  we's  seen  it  twiste,  en 
dat's  proof.  De  desert's  ha'nted,  it's  ha'nted,  sho; 
oh,  Mars  Tom,  le'  's  git  outen  it;  I'd  ruther  die  den 
have  de  night  ketch  us  in  it  ag'in  en  de  ghos'  er  dat 
lake  come  a-mournin'  aroun'  us  en  we  asleep  en  doan' 
know  de  danger  we's  in." 

"  Ghost,  you  gander!  It  ain't  anything  but  air  and 
heat  and  thirstiness  pasted  together  by  a  person's 
imagination.  If  I  —  gimme  the  glass  !" 

He  grabbed  it  and  begun  to  gaze  off  to  the  right. 

"It's  a  flock  of  birds,"  he  says.  "It's  getting 
toward  sundown,  and  they're  making  a  bee-line  across 
our  track  for  somewheres.  They  mean  business — » 
maybe  they're  going  for  food  or  water,  or  both.  Let 
her  go  to  starboard  !  —  Port  your  helium  !  Hard  down  ! 
There  —  ease  up  —  steady,  as  you  go." 

We  shut  down  some  of  the  power,  so  as  not  to  out- 
speed  them,  and  took  out  after  them.  We  went  skim 
ming  along  a  quarter  of  a  mile  behind  them,  and  when 
we  had  followed  them  an  hour  and  a  half  and  was  get 
ting  pretty  discouraged,  and  was  thirsty  clean  to 
unendurableness,  Tom  says: 

1  Take  the  glass,  one  of  you,  and  see  what  that  is, 
away  ahead  of  the  birds." 

Jim  got  the  first  glimpse,  and  slumped  down  on  the 
locker  sick.  He  was  most  crying,  and  says : 

11  She's  dah  ag'in,  Mars  Tom,  she's  dah  ag'in,  en  I 
knows  I's  gwine  to  die,  'case  when  a  body  sees  a  ghos' 


80  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

de  third  time,  dat's  what  it  means.  I  wisht  I'd  never 
come  in  dis  balloon,  dat  I  does." 

He  wouldn't  look  no  more,  and  what  he  said  made 
me  afraid,  too,  because  I  knowed  it  was  true,  for  that 
has  always  been  the  way  with  ghosts;  so  then  I 
wouldn't  look  any  more,  either.  Both  of  us  begged 
Tom  to  turn  off  and  go  some  other  way,  but  he 
wouldn't,  and  said  we  was  ignorant  superstitious 
blatherskites.  Yes,  and  he'll  git  come  up  with,  one 
of  these  days,  I  says  to  myself,  insulting  ghosts  that 
way.  They'll  stand  it  for  a  while,  maybe,  but  they 
won't  stand  it  always,  for  anybody  that  knows  about 
ghosts  knows  how  easy  they  are  hurt,  and  how  revenge 
ful  they  are. 

So  we  was  all  quiet  and  still,  Jim  and  me  being 
scared,  and  Tom  busy.  By  and  by  Tom  fetched  the 
balloon  to  a  standstill,  and  says: 

"  Now  get  up  and  look,  you  sapheads." 

We  done  it,  and  there  was  the  sure-enough  water 
right  under  us!  —  clear,  and  blue,  and  cool,  and  deep, 
and  wavy  with  the  breeze,  the  loveliest  sight  that  ever 
was.  And  all  about  it  was  grassy  banks,  and  flowers, 
and  shady  groves  of  big  trees,  looped  together  with 
vines,  and  all  looking  so  peaceful  and  comfortable  — 
enough  to  make  a  body  cry,  it  was  so  beautiful. 

Jim  did  cry,  and  rip  and  dance  and  carry  on,  he  was 
so  thankful  and  out  of  his  mind  for  joy.  It  was  my 
watch,  so  I  had  to  stay  by  the  works,  but  Tom  and 
Jim  clumb  down  and  drunk  a  barrel  apiece,  and 
fetched  me  up  a  lot,  and  I've  tasted  a  many  a  good 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  81 

thing  in  my  life,  but  nothing  that  ever  begun  with  that 
water. 

Then  we  went  down  and  had  a  swim,  and  then  Tom 
came  up  and  spelled  me,  and  me  and  Jim  had  a  swim, 
and  then  Jim  spelled  Tom,  and  me  and  Tom  had  a 
foot-race  and  a  boxing-mill,  and  I  don't  reckon  I  ever 
had  such  a  good  time  in  my  life.  It  warn't  so  very 
hot,  because  it  was  close  on  to  evening,  and  we  hadn't 
any  clothes  on,  anyway.  Clothes  is  well  enough  in 
school,  and  in  towns,  and  at  balls,  too,  but  there  ain't 
no  sense  in  them  when  there  ain't  no  civilization  nor 
other  kinds  of  bothers  and  fussiness  around. 

"Lions  a-comin'  !  —  lions!  Quick,  Mars  Tom! 
Jump  for  yo'  life,  Huck!" 

Oh,  and  didn't  we  !  We  never  stopped  for  clothes, 
but  waltzed  up  the  ladder  just  so.  Jim  lost  his  head 
straight  off  —  he  always  done  it  whenever  he  got  ex 
cited  and  scared;  and  so  now,  'stead  of  just  easing  the 
ladder  up  from  the  ground  a  little,  so  the  animals 
couldn't  reach  it,  he  turned  on  a  raft  of  power,  and  we 
went  whizzing  up  and  was  dangling  in  the  sky  before 
he  got  his  wits  together  and  seen  what  a  foolish  thing 
he  was  doing.  Then  he  stopped  her,  but  he  had  clean 
forgot  what  to  do  next;  so  there  we  was,  so  high  that 
the  lions  looked  like  pups,  and  we  was  drifting  off  on 
the  wind. 

But  Tom  he  shinned  up  and  went  for  the  works  and 
begun  to  slant  her  down,  and  back  toward  the  lake, 
where  the  animals  was  gathering  like  a  camp-meeting, 
and  I  judged  he  had  lost  his  head,  too;  for  he  knowed 


82  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

I  was  too  scared  to  climb,  and  did  he  want  to  dump 
me  among  the  tigers  and  things? 

But  no,  his  head  was  level,  he  knowed  what  he  was 
about.  He  swooped  down  to  within  thirty  or  forty 
feet  of  the  lake,  and  stopped  right  over  the  center,  and 
sung  out: 

44  Leggo,  and  drop  !" 

I  done  it,  and  shot  down,  feet  first,  and  seemed  to 
go  about  a  mile  toward  the  bottom ;  and  when  I  come 
up,  he  says: 

44  Now  lay  on  your  back  and  float  till  you're  rested 
and  got  your  pluck  back,  then  I'll  dip  the  ladder  in 
the  water  and  you  can  climb  aboard „" 

I  done  it.  Now  that  was  ever  so  smart  in  Tom,  be 
cause  if  he  had  started  off  somewheres  else  to  drop 
down  on  the  sand,  the  menagerie  would  'a'  come 
along,  too,  and  might  'a'  kept  us  hunting  a  safe  place 
till  I  got  tuckered  out  and  fell. 

And  all  this  time  the  lions  and  tigers  was  sorting  out 
the  clothes,  and  trying  to  divide  them  up  so  there 
would  be  some  for  all,  but  there  was  a  misunderstand 
ing  about  it  somewheres,  on  account  of  some  of  them 
trying  to  hog  more  than  their  share;  so  there  was 
another  insurrection,  and  you  never  see  anything  like 
it  in  the  world.  There  must  'aj  been  fifty  of  them,  all 
mixed  up  together,  snorting  and  roaring  and  snapping 
and  biting  and  tearing,  legs  and  tails  in  the  air,  and 
you  couldn't  tell  which  was  which,  and  the  sand  and 
fur  a-flying.  And  when  they  got  done,  some  was 
dead,  and  some  was  limping  off  crippled,  and  the  rest 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  83 

was  setting  around  on  the  battlefield,  some  of  them 
licking  their  sore  places  and  the  others  looking  up  at 
us  and  seemed  to  be  kind  of  inviting  us  to  come  down 
and  have  some  fun,  but  which  we  didn't  want  any. 

As  for  the  clothes,  they  warn't  any,  any  more. 
Every  last  rag  of  them  was  inside  of  the  animals ;  and 
not  agreeing  with  them  very  well,  I  don't  reckon,  for 
there  was  considerable  many  brass  buttons  on  them, 
and  there  was  knives  in  the  pockets,  too,  and  smoking 
tobacco,  and  nails  and  chalk  and  marbles  and  fish 
hooks  and  things.  But  I  wasn't  caring.  All  that  was 
bothering  me  was,  that  all  we  had  now  was  the  pro 
fessor's  clothes,  a  big  enough  assortment,  but  not  suit 
able  to  go  into  company  with,  if  we  came  across  any, 
because  the  britches  was  as  long  as  tunnels,  and  the 
coats  and  things  according.  Still,  there  was  everything 
a  tailor  needed,  and  Jim  was  a  kind  of  jack-legged 
tailor,  and  he  allowed  he  could  soon  trim  a  suit  or  two 
down  for  us  that  would  answer. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

TOM   DISCOURSES  ON  THE  DESERT 

STILL,  we  thought  we  would  drop  down  there  a 
minute,  but  on  another  errand.  Most  of  the  pro 
fessor's  cargo  of  food  was  put  up  in  cans,  in  the  new 
way  that  somebody  had  just  invented ;  the  rest  was 
fresh.  When  you  fetch  Missouri  beefsteak  to  the 
Great  Sahara,  you  want  to  be  particular  and  stay  up 
in  the  coolish  weather.  So  we  reckoned  we  would 
drop  down  into  the  lion  market  and  see  how  we  could 
make  out  there. 

We  hauled  in  the  ladder  and  dropped  down  till  we 
was  just  above  the  reach  of  the  animals,  then  we  let 
down  a  rope  with  a  slip-knot  in  it  and  hauled  up  a 
dead  lion,  a  small  tender  one,  then  yanked  up  a  cub 
tiger.  We  had  to  keep  the  congregation  off  with  the 
revolver,  or  they  would  'a'  took  a  hand  in  the  proceed 
ings  and  helped. 

We  carved  off  a  supply  from  both,  and  saved  the 
skins,  and  hove  the  rest  overboard.  Then  we  baited 
some  of  the  professor's  hooks  with  the  fresh  meat  and 
went  a-fishing.  We  stood  over  the  lake  just  a  con 
venient  distance  above  the  water,  and  catched  a  lot  of 

(84) 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  85 

the  nicest  fish  you  ever  see.  It  was  a  most  amazing 
good  supper  we  had ;  lion  steak,  tiger  steak,  fried  fish, 
and  hot  corn-pone.  I  don't  want  nothing  better  than 
that. 

We  had  some  fruit  to  finish  off  with.  We  got  it  out 
of  the  top  of  a  monstrous  tall  tree.  It  was  a  very  slim 
tree  that  hadn't  a  branch  on  it  from  the  bottom  plumb 
to  the  top,  and  there  it  bursted  out  like  a  feather- 
duster.  It  was  a  pa'm-tree,  of  course;  anybody  knows 
a  pa'm-tree  the  minute  he  see  it,  by  the  pictures.  We 
went  for  cocoanuts  in  this  one,  but  there  warn't  none. 
There  was  only  big  loose  bunches  of  things  like  over 
sized  grapes,  and  Tom  allowed  they  was  dates,  because 
he  said  they  answered  the  description  in  the  Arabian 
Nights  and  the  other  books.  Of  course  they  mightn't 
be,  and  they  might  be  poison ;  so  we  had  to  wait  a 
spell,  and  watch  and  see  if  the  birds  et  them.  They 
done  it;  so  we  done  it,  too,  and  they  was  most  amaz 
ing  good. 

By  this  time  monstrous  big  birds  begun  to  come  and 
settle  on  the  dead  animals.  They  was  plucky  creturs ; 
they  would  tackle  one  end  of  a  lion  that  was  being 
gnawed  at  the  other  end  by  another  lion.  If  the  lion 
drove  the  bird  away,  it  didn't  do  no  good;  he  was 
back  again  the  minute  the  lion  was  busy. 

The  big  birds  come  out  of  every  part  of  the  sky  — 
you  could  make  them  out  with  the  glass  while  they  was 
still  so  far  away  you  couldn't  see  them  with  your  naked 
eye.  Tom  said  the  birds  didn't  find  out  the  meat  was 
there  by  the  smell ;  they  had  to  find  it  out  by  seeing 


86  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

it.  Oh,  but  ain't  that  an  eye  for  you !  Tom  said  at 
the  distance  of  five  mile  a  patch  of  dead  lions  couldn't 
look  any  bigger  than  a  person's  finger-nail,  and  he 
couldn't  imagine  how  the  birds  could  notice  such  a 
little  thing  so  far  off. 

It  was  strange  and  unnatural  to  see  lion  eat  lion, 
and  we  thought  maybe  they  warn't  kin.  But  Jim  said 
that  didn't  make  no  difference.  He  said  a  hog  was 
fond  of  her  own  children,  and  so  was  a  spider,  and  he 
reckoned  maybe  a  lion  was  pretty  near  as  unprincipled 
though  maybe  not  quite.  He  thought  likely  a  lion 
wouldn't  eat  his  own  father,  if  he  knowed  which  was 
him,  but  reckoned  he  would  eat  his  brother-in-law  if 
he  was  uncommon  hungry,  and  eat  his  mother-in-law 
any  time.  But  reckoning  don't  settle  nothing.  You 
can  reckon  till  the  cows  come  home,  but  that  don't 
fetch  you  to  no  decision.  So  we  give  it  up  and  let  it 
drop. 

Generly  it  was  very  still  in  the  Desert  nights,  but  this 
time  there  was  music.  A  lot  of  other  animals  come  to 
dinner;  sneaking  yelpers  that  Tom  allowed  was  jackals, 
and  roached-backed  ones  that  he  said  was  hyenas ;  and 
all  the  whole  biling  of  them  kept  up  a  racket  all  the 
time.  They  made  a  picture  in  the  moonlight  that  was 
more  different  than  any  picture  I  ever  see.  We  had  a 
line  out  and  made  fast  to  the  top  of  a  tree,  and  didn't 
stand  no  watch,  but  all  turned  in  and  slept;  but  I  was 
up  two  or  three  times  to  look  down  at  the  animals  and 
hear  the  music.  It  was  like  having  a  front  seat  at  a 
menagerie  for  nothing,  which  I  hadn't  ever  had  before, 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  87 

and  so  it  seemed  foolish  to  sleep  and  not  make  the 
most  of  it;  I  mightn't  ever  have  such  a  chance 
again. 

We  went  a-fishing  again  in  the  early  dawn,  and  then 
lazied  around  all  day  in  the  deep  shade  on  an  island, 
taking  turn  about  to  watch  and  see  that  none  of  the 
animals  come  a-snooping  around  there  after  erronorts 
for  dinner.  We  was  going  to  leave  the  next  day,  but 
couldn't,  it  was  too  lovely. 

The  day  after,  when  we  rose  up  toward  the  sky  and 
sailed  off  eastward,  we  looked  back  and  watched  that 
place  till  it  warn't  nothing  but  just  a  speck  in  the 
Desert,  and  I  tell  you  it  was  like  saying  good-bye  to  a 
friend  that  you  ain't  ever  going  to  see  any  more. 

Jim  was  thinking  to  himself,  and  at  last  he  says : 

"  Mars  Tom,  we's  mos'  to  de  end  er  de  Desert  now, 
I  speck." 

"  Why?" 

"Well,  hit  stan*  to  reason  we  is.  You  knows  how 
long  we's  been  a-skimmin'  over  it.  Mus'  be  mos'  out 
o'  san'.  Hit's  a  wonder  to  me  dat  it's  hilt  out  as  long 
as  it  has." 

"  Shucks,  there's  plenty  sand,  you  needn't  worry." 

'*  Oh,  I  ain't  a-worryin',  Mars  Tom,  only  wonderin', 
dat's  all.  De  Lord's  got  plenty  san',  I  ain't  doubtin' 
dat;  but  nemmine,  He  ain't  gwyne  to  was' e  it  jist  on 
dat  account;  en  I  allows  dat  dis  Desert's  plenty  big 
enough  now,  jist  de  way  she  is,  en  you  can't  spread 
her  out  no  mo'  'dout  was'in'  san'." 

"  Oh,   go    'long!  we  ain't  much   more  than   fairly 


88  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

started  across  this  Desert  yet.     The  United  States  is  a 
pretty  big  country,  ain't  it?     Ain't  it,  Huck?" 

1  Yes,"   I  says,  "  there  ain't  no  bigger  one,  I  don't 
reckon." 

"Well,"  he  says,  "  this  Desert  is  about  the  shape 
of  the  United  States,  and  if  you  was  to  lay  it  down  on 
top  of  the  United  States,  it  would  cover  the  land  of 
the  free  out  of  sight  like  a  blanket.  There'd  be  a  little 
corner  sticking  out,  up  at  Maine  and  away  up  north 
west,  and  Florida  sticking  out  like  a  turtle's  tail,  and 
that's  all.  We've  took  California  away  from  the 
Mexicans  two  or  three  years  ago,  so  that  part  of  the 
Pacific  coast  is  ours  now,  and  if  you  laid  the  Great 
Sahara  down  with  her  edge  on  the  Pacific,  she  would 
cover  the  United  States  and  stick  out  past  New  York 
six  hundred  miles  into  the  Atlantic  ocean." 

I  say: 

"  Good  land  !  have  you  got  the  documents  for  that, 
Tom  Sawyer?" 

"Yes,  and  they're  right  here,  and  I've  been  study 
ing  them.  You  can  look  for  yourself.  From  New 
York  to  the  Pacific  is  2,600  miles.  From  one  end  of 
the  Great  Desert  to  the  other  is  3,200.  The  United 
States  contains  3,600,000  square  miles,  the  Desert 
contains  4,162,000.  With  the  Desert's  bulk  you  could 
cover  up  every  last  inch  of  the  United  States,  and  in 
under  where  the  edges  projected  out,  you  could  tuck 
England,  Scotland,  Ireland,  France,  Denmark,  and  all 
Germany.  Yes,  sir,  you  could  hide  the  home  of  the 
brave  and  all  of  them  countries  clean  out  of  sight  under 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  89 

the  Great  Sahara,  and  you  would  still  have  2,000 
square  miles  of  sand  left." 

"Well,"  I  says,  "it  clean  beats  me.  Why,  Tom, 
it  shows  that  the  Lord  took  as  much  pains  makin'  this 
Desert  as  makin'  the  United  States  and  all  them  other 
countries." 

Jim  says:  "  Huck,  dat  don'  stan'  to  reason.  I 
reckon  dis  Desert  wa'n't  made  at  all.  Now  you  take 
en  look  at  it  like  dis  —  you  look  at  it,  and  see  ef  I's 
right.  What's  a  desert  good  for?  'Taint  good  for 
nuthin'.  Dey  ain't  no  way  to  make  it  pay.  Hain't 
dat  so,  Huck?" 

"Yes,  I  reckon." 

11  Hain't  it  so,  Mars  Tom?" 

"  I  guess  so.      Go  on." 

"  Ef  a  thing  ain't  no  good,  it's  made  in  vain,  ain't  it?" 

"Yes." 

"Now,  den!  Do  de  Lord  make  anything  in  vain? 
You  answer  me  dat." 

"Well  — no,  He  don't." 

"  Den  how  come  He  make  a  desert?" 

"  Well,  go  on.     How  did  He  come  to  make  it?" 

' "'  Mars  Tom,  /  b'lieve  it  uz  jes  like  when  you's  buildin' 
a  house;  dey's  allays  a  lot  o'  truck  en  rubbish  lef  over. 
What  does  you  do  wid  it?  Doan'  you  take  en  k'yart 
it  off  en  dump  it  into  a  ole  vacant  back  lot?  'Course. 
Now,  den,  it's  my  opinion  hit  was  jes  like  dat  —  dat 
de  Great  Sahara  warn't  made  at  all,  she  jes  happen* ." 

I  said  it  was  a  real  good  argument,  and  I  believed  it 
was  the  best  one  Jim  ever  made.  Tom  he  said  the  same, 


90  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

but  said  the  trouble  about  arguments  is,  they  ain't 
nothing  but  theories ,  after  all,  and  theories  don't  prove 
nothing,  they  only  give  you  a  place  to  rest  on,  a  spell, 
when  you  are  tuckered  out  butting  around  and  around 
trying  to  find  out  something  there  ain't  no  way  to  find 
out.  And  he  says: 

"There's  another  trouble  about  theories:  there's 
always  a  hole  in  them  somewheres,  sure,  if  you  look 
close  enough.  It's  just  so  with  this  one  of  Jim's. 
Look  what  billions  and  billions  of  stars  there  is.  How 
does  it  come  that  there  was  just  exactly  enough  star- 
stuff,  and  none  left  over?  How  does  it  come  there 
ain't  no  sand-pile  up  there?" 

But  Jim  was  fixed  for  him  and  says : 

"What's  de  Milky  Way?  —  dat's  what  7  want  to 
know.  What's  de  Milky  Way?  Answer  me  dat!" 

In  my  opinion  it  was  just  a  sockdologer.  It's  only 
an  opinion,  it's  only  my  opinion  and  others  may  think 
different ;  but  I  said  it  then  and  I  stand  to  it  now  —  it 
was  a  sockdologer.  And  moreover,  besides,  it  landed 
Tom  Sawyer.  He  couldn't  say  a  word.  He  had  that 
stunned  look  of  a  person  that's  been  shot  in  the  back 
with  a  kag  of  nails.  All  he  said  was,  as  for  people 
like  me  and  Jim,  he'd  just  as  soon  have  intellectual 
intercourse  with  a  catfish.  But  anybody  can  say  that 
—  and  I  notice  they  always  do,  when  somebody  has 
fetched  them  a  lifter.  Tom  Sawyer  was  tired  of  that 
end  of  the  subject. 

So  we  got  back  to  talking  about  the  size  of  the 
Desert  again,  and  the  more  we  compared  it  with  this 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  91 

and  that  and  t'other  thing,  the  more  nobier  and  bigger 
and  grander  it  got  to  look  right  along.  And  so,  hunt 
ing  among  the  riggers,  Tom  found,  by  and  by,  that  it 
was  just  the  same  size  as  the  Empire  of  China.  Then 
he  showed  us  the  spread  the  Empire  of  China  made  on 
the  map,  and  the  room  she  took  up  in  the  world. 
Well,  it  was  wonderful  to  think  of,  and  I  says : 

"Why,  I've  heard  talk  about  this  Desert  plenty  of 
times,  but  7  never  knowed  before  how  important  she 
was." 

Then  Tom  says : 

"Important!  Sahara  important!  That's  just  the 
way  with  some  people.  If  a  thing's  big,  it's  important. 
That's  all  the  sense  they've  got.  All  they  can  see  is 
size.  Why,  look  at  England.  It's  the  most  important 
country  in  the  world ;  and  yet  you  could  put  it  in 
China's  vest-pocket;  and  not  only  that,  but  you'd 
have  the  dickens' s  own  time  to  find  it  again  the  next 
time  you  wanted  it.  And  look  at  Russia.  It  spreads 
all  around  and  everywhere,  and  yet  ain't  no  more  im 
portant  in  this  world  than  Rhode  Island  is,  and  hasn't 
got  half  as  much  in  it  that's  worth  saving." 

Away  off  now  we  see  a  little  hill,  a-standing  up  just 
on  the  edge  of  the  world.  Tom  broke  off  his  talk,  and 
reached  for  a  glass  very  much  excited,  and  took  a  look, 
and  says: 

'That's  it — it's  the  one  I've  been  looking  for, 
sure.  If  I'm  right,  it's  the  one  the  dervish  took  the 
man  into  and  showed  him  all  the  treasures." 

So  we  begun  to  gaze,  and  he  begun  to  tell  about  it 
out  of  the  Arabian  Nights. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  TREASURE-HILL 

TOM  said  it  happened  like  this. 
A  dervish  was  stumping  it  along  through  the 
Desert,  on  foot,  one  blazing  hot  day,  and  he  had  come 
a  thousand  miles  and  was  pretty  poor,  and  hungry, 
and  ornery  and  tired,  and  along  about  where  we  are 
now  he  run  across  a  camel-driver  with  a  hundred 
camels,  and  asked  him  for  some  a'ms.  But  the  camel- 
driver  he  asked  to  be  excused.  The  dervish  said: 

"  Don't  you  own  these  camels?" 

"  Yes,  they're  mine." 

"Are  you  in  debt?" 

"Who  — me?     No." 

"  Well,  a  man  that  owns  a  hundred  camels  and  ain't 
in  debt  is  rich  —  and  not  only  rich,  but  very  rich. 
Ain't  it  so?" 

The  camel-driver  owned  up  that  it  was  so.  Then 
the  dervish  says : 

"  God  has  made  you  rich,  and  He  has  made  me 
poor.  He  has  His  reasons,  and  they  are  wise,  blessed 
be  His  name.  But  He  has  willed  that  His  rich  shall 
help  His  poor,  and  you  have  turned  away  from  me, 

(92) 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  93 

your  brother,  in  my  need,  and  He  will  remember  this, 
and  you  will  lose  by  it." 

That  made  the  camel-driver  feel  shaky,  but  all  the 
same  he  was  born  hoggish  after  money  and  didn't  like 
to  let  go  a  cent;  so  he  begun  to  whine  and  explain, 
and  said  times  was  hard,  and  although  he  had  took  a 
full  freight  down  to  Balsora  and  got  a  fat  rate  for  it, 
he  couldn't  git  no  return  freight,  and  so  he  warn't 
making  no  great  things  out  of  his  trip.  So  the  dervish 
starts  along  again,  and  says: 

"All  right,  if  you  want  to  take  the  risk;  but  I 
reckon  you've  made  a  mistake  this  time,  and  missed  a 
chance." 

Of  course  the  camel-driver  wanted  to  know  what 
kind  of  a  chance  he  had  missed,  because  maybe  there 
was  money  in  it;  so  he  run  after  the  dervish,  and 
begged  him  so  hard  and  earnest  to  take  pity  on  him 
that  at  last  the  dervish  gave  in,  and  says: 

"  Do  you  see  that  hill  yonder?  Well,  in  that  hill  is 
all  the  treasures  of  the  earth,  and  I  was  looking  around 
for  a  man  with  a  particular  good  kind  heart  and  a 
noble,  generous  disposition,  because  if  I  could  find  just 
that  man,  I've  got  a  kind  of  a  salve  I  could  put  on 
his  eyes  and  he  could  see  the  treasures  and  get  them 
out." 

So  then  the  camel-driver  was  in  a  sweat;  and  he 
cried,  and  begged,  and  took  on,  and  went  down  on  his 
knees,  and  said  he  was  just  that  kind  of  a  man,  and 
said  he  could  fetch  a  thousand  people  that  would  say 
he  wasn't  ever  described  so  exact  before. 


94  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

"Well,  then,"  says  the  dervish,  "  all  right.  If  we 
load  the  hundred  camels,  can  I  have  half  of  them?" 

The  driver  was  so  glad  he  couldn't  hardly  hold  in, 
and  says : 

"  Now  you're  shouting." 

So  they  shook  hands  on  the  bargain,  and  the  dervish 
got  out  his  box  and  rubbed  the  salve  on  the  driver's 
right  eye,  and  the  hill  opened  and  he  went  in,  and 
there,  sure  enough,  was  piles  and  piles  of  gold  and 
jewels  sparkling  like  all  the  stars  in  heaven  had  fell  down. 

So  him  and  the  dervish  laid  into  it,  and  they  loaded 
every  camel  till  he  couldn't  carry  no  more;  then  they 
said  good-bye,  and  each  of  them  started  off  with  his 
fifty.  But  pretty  soon  the  camel-driver  come  a-running 
and  overtook  the  dervish  and  says : 

'  You  ain't  in  society,  you  know,  and  you  don't 
really  need  all  you've  got.  Won't  you  be  good,  and 
let  me  have  ten  of  your  camels?" 

"  Well,"  the  dervish  says,  "  I  don't  know  but  what 
you  say  is  reasonable  enough." 

So  he  done  it,  and  they  separated  and  the  dervish 
started  off  again  with  his  forty.  But  pretty  soon  here 
comes  the  camel-driver  bawling  after  him  again,  and 
whines  and  slobbers  around  and  begs  another  ten  off  of 
him,  saying  thirty  camel  loads  of  treasures  was  enough 
to  see  a  dervish  through,  because  they  live  very  simple, 
you  know,  and  don't  keep  house,  but  board  around 
and  give  their  note. 

But  that  warn't  the  end  yet.  That  ornery  hound 
kept  coming  and  coming  till  he  had  begged  back  all 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  95 

the  camels  and  had  the  whole  hundred.  Then  he  was 
satisfied,  and  ever  so  grateful,  and  said  he  wouldn't 
ever  forgit  the  dervish  as  long  as  he  lived,  and  nobody 
hadn't  been  so  good  to  him  before,  and  liberal.  So 
they  shook  hands  good-bye,  and  separated  and  started 
off  again. 

But  do  you  know,  it  warn't  ten  minutes  till  the 
camel-driver  was  unsatisfied  again  —  he  was  the  low- 
downest  reptyle  in  seven  counties  —  and  he  cornea- 
running  again.  And  this  time  the  thing  he  wanted  was 
to  get  the  dervish  to  rub  some  of  the  salve  on  his  other 
eye. 

"Why?"  said  the  dervish. 

"  Oh,  you  know,"  says  the  driver. 

44  Know  what?" 

"Well,  you  can't  fool  me,"  says  the  driver. 
"You're  trying  to  keep  back  something  from  me, 
you  know  it  mighty  well.  You  know,  I  reckon,  that 
if  I  had  the  salve  on  the  other  eye  I  could  see  a  lot 
more  things  that's  valuable.  Come  —  please  put  it  on." 

The  dervish  says : 

"  I  wasn't  keeping  anything  back  from  you.  I 
don't  mind  telling  you  what  would  happen  if  I  put  it 
on.  You'd  never  see  again.  You'd  be  stone-blind  the 
rest  of  your  days." 

But  do  you  know  that  beat  wouldn't  believe  him. 
No,  he  begged  and  begged,  and  whined  and  cried,  till 
at  last  the  dervish  opened  his  box  and  told  him  to  put 
it  on,  if  he  wanted  to.  So  the  man  done  it,  and  sure 
enough  he  was  as  blind  as  a  bat  in  a  minute. 

7 


96  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

Then  the  dervish  laughed  at  him  and  mocked  at  him 
and  made  fun  of  him ;  and  says : 

"Good-bye  —  a  man  that's  blind  hain't  got  no  use 
for  jewelry." 

And  he  cleared  out  with  the  hundred  camels,  and 
left  that  man  to  wander  around  poor  and  miserable  and 
friendless  the  rest  of  his  days  in  the  Desert. 

Jim  said  he'd  bet  it  was  a  lesson  to  him. 
'Yes,"  Tom  says,  "and  like  a  considerable  many 
lessons  a  body  gets.  They  ain't  no  account,  because 
the  thing  don't  ever  happen  the  same  way  again  —  and 
can't.  The  time  Hen  Scovil  fell  down  the  chimbly 
and  crippled  his  back  for  life,  everybody  said  it  would 
be  a  lesson  to  him.  What  kind  of  a  lesson?  How 
was  he  going  to  use  it?  He  couldn't  climb  chimblies 
no  more,  and  he  hadn't  no  more  backs  to  break." 

"All  de  same,  Mars  Tom,  dey  is  sich  a  thing  as 
learnin'  by  expe'ence.  De  Good  Book  say  de  burnt 
chile  shun  de  fire." 

"  Well,  I  ain't  denying  that  a  thing's  a  lesson  if  it's 
a  thing  that  can  happen  twice  just  the  same  way. 
There's  lots  of  such  things,  and  they  educate  a  person, 
that's  what  Uncle  Abner  always  said;  but  there's  forty 
million  lots  of  the  other  kind  —  the  kind  that  don't 
happen  the  same  way  twice  —  and  they  ain't  no  real 
use,  they  ain't  no  more  instructive  than  the  small-pox. 
When  you've  got  it,  it  ain't  no  good  to  find  out  you 
ought  to  been  vaccinated,  and  it  ain't  no  good  to  git 
vaccinated  afterward,  because  the  small-pox  don't 
come  but  once.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  Uncle  Abner 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  97 

said  that  the  person  that  had  took  a  bull  by  the  tail 
once  had  learnt  sixty  or  seventy  times  as  much  as  a 
person  that  hadn't,  and  said  a  person  that  started  in  to 
carry  a  cat  home  by  the  tail  was  gitting  knowledge  that 
was  always  going  to  be  useful  to  him,  and  warn't  ever 
going  to  grow  dim  or  doubtful.  But  I  can  tell  you, 
Jim,  Uncle  Abner  was  down  on  them  people  that's  all 
the  time  trying  to  dig  a  lesson  out  of  everything  that 
happens,  no  matter  whether — " 

But  Jim  was  asleep.  Tom  looked  kind  of  ashamed, 
because  you  know  a  person  always  feels  bad  when  he 
is  talking  uncommon  fine  and  thinks  the  other  person 
is  admiring,  and  that  other  person  goes  to  sleep  that 
way.  Of  course  he  oughtn't  to  go  to  sleep,  because 
it's  shabby;  but  the  finer  a  person  talks  the  certainer 
it  is  to  make  you  sleep,  and  so  when  you  come  to  look 
at  it  it  ain't  nobody's  fault  in  particular;  both  of 
them's  to  blame. 

Jim  begun  to  snore  —  soft  and  blubbery  at  first, 
then  a  long  rasp,  then  a  stronger  one,  then  a  half  a 
dozen  horrible  ones  like  the  last  water  sucking  down 
the  plug-hole  of  a  bath-tub,  then  the  same  with  more 
power  to  it,  and  some  big  coughs  and  snorts  flung  in, 
the  way  a  cow  does  that  is  choking  to  death ;  and 
when  the  person  has  got  to  that  point  he  is  at  his  level 
best,  and  can  wake  up  a  man  that  is  in  the  next  block 
with  a  dipperful  of  loddanum  in  him,  but  can't  wake 
himself  up  although  all  that  awful  noise  of  his'n  ain't 
but  three  inches  from  his  own  ears.  And  that  is  the 
curiosest  thing  in  the  world,  seems  to  me.  But  you 


98  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

rake  a  match  to  light  the  candle,  and  that  little  bit  of  a 
noise  will  fetch  him.  I  wish  I  knowed  what  was  the 
reason  of  that,  but  there  don't  seem  to  be  no  way  to 
find  out.  Now  there  was  Jim  alarming  the  whole 
Desert,  and  yanking  the  animals  out,  for  miles  and 
miles  around,  to  see  what  in  the  nation  was  going  on 
up  there;  there  warn't  nobody  nor  nothing  that  was  as 
close  to  the  noise  as  he  was,  and  yet  he  was  the  only 
cretur  that  wasn't  disturbed  by  it.  We  yelled  at  him 
and  whooped  at  him,  it  never  done  no  good;  but  the 
first  time  there  come  a  little  wee  noise  that  wasn't  of  a 
usual  kind  it  woke  him  up.  No,  sir,  I've  thought  it 
all  over,  and  so  has  Tom,  and  there  ain't  no  way  to 
find  out  why  a  snorer  can't  hear  himself  snore. 

Jim  said  he  hadn't  been  asleep;  he  just  shut  his  eyes 
so  he  could  listen  better. 

Tom  said  nobody  warn't  accusing  him. 

That  made  him  look  like  he  wished  he  hadn't  said 
anything.  And  he  wanted  to  git  away  from  the  sub 
ject,  I  reckon,  because  he  begun  to  abuse  the  camel- 
driver,  just  the  way  a  person  does  when  he  has  got 
catched  in  something  and  wants  to  take  it  out  of  some 
body  else.  He  let  into  the  camel-driver  the  hardest  he 
knowed  how,  and  I  had  to  agree  with  him ;  and  he 
praised  up  the  dervish  the  highest  he  could,  and  I  had 
to  agree  with  him  there,  too.  But  Tom  says: 

"  I  ain't  so  sure.  You  call  that  dervish  so  dreadful 
liberal  and  good  and  unselfish,  but  I  don't  quite  see  it. 
He  didn't  hunt  up  another  poor  dervish,  did  he?  No, 
he  didn't.  If  he  was  so  unselfish,  why  didn't  he  go  in 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  99 

there  himself  and  take  a  pocketful  of  jewels  and  go 
along  and  be  satisfied?  No,  sir,  the  person  he  was 
hunting  for  was  a  man  with  a  hundred  camels.  He 
wanted  to  get  away  with  all  the  treasure  he  could." 

l<  Why,  Mars  Tom,  he  was  willin'  to  divide,  fair  and 
square;  he  only  struck  for  fifty  camels." 

4  *  Because  he  knowed  how  he  was  going  to  get  all  of 
them  by  and  by." 

"  Mars  Tom,  he  tole  de  man  de  truck  would  make 
him  bline." 

'Yes,  because  he  knowed  the  man's  character.  It 
was  just  the  kind  of  a  man  he  was  hunting  for  —  a 
man  that  never  believes  in  anybody's  word  or  any 
body's  honorableness,  because  he  ain't  got  none  of  his 
own.  I  reckon  there's  lots  of  people  like  that  dervish. 
They  swindle,  right  and  left,  but  they  always  make  the 
other  person  seem  to  swindle  himself.  They  keep  inside 
of  the  letter  of  the  law  all  the  time,  and  there  ain't  no 
way  to  git  hold  of  them.  They  don't  put  the  salve  on 
—  oh,  no,  that  would  be  sin;  but  they  know  how  to 
fool  you  into  putting  it  on,  then  it's  you  that  blinds 
yourself.  I  reckon  the  dervish  and  the  camel-driver 
was  just  a  pair  —  a  fine,  smart,  brainy  rascal,  and  a 
dull,  coarse,  ignorant  one,  but  both  of  them  rascals, 
just  the  same." 

"  Mars  Tom,  does  you  reckon  dey's  any  o'  dat  kind 
o'  salve  in  de  worl'  now?" 

1  Yes,  Uncle  Abner  says  there  is.  He  says  they've 
got  it  in  New  York,  and  they  put  it  on  country  people's 
eyes  and  show  them  all  the  railroads  in  the  world,  and 
G*» 


100  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

they  go  in  and  git  them,  and  then  when  they  rub  the 
salve  on  the  other  eye  the  other  man  bids  them  good 
bye  and  goes  off  with  their  railroads.  Here's  the 
treasure-hill  now.  Lower  away!" 

We  landed,  but  it  warn't  as  interesting  as  I  thought 
it  was  going  to  be,  because  we  couldn't  find  the  place 
where  they  went  in  to  git  the  treasure.  Still,  it  was 
plenty  interesting  enough,  just  to  see  the  mere  hill 
itself  where  such  a  wonderful  thing  happened.  Jim 
said  he  wouldn't  'a'  missed  it  for  three  dollars,  and  I 
felt  the  same  way. 

And  to  me  and  Jim,  as  wonderful  a  thing  as  any  was 
the  way  Tom  could  come  into  a  strange  big  country 
like  this  and  go  straight  and  find  a  little  hump  like  that 
and  tell  it  in  a  minute  from  a  million  other  humps  that 
was  almost  just  like  it,  and  nothing  to  help  him  but 
only  his  own  learning  and  his  own  natural  smartness. 
We  talked  and  talked  it  over  together,  but  couldn't 
make  out  how  he  done  it.  He  had  the  best  head  on 
him  I  ever  see ;  and  all  he  lacked  was  age,  to  make  a 
name  for  himself  equal  to  Captain  Kidd  or  George 
Washington.  I  bet  you  it  would  'a'  crowded  either  of 
them  to  find  that  hill,  with  all  their  gifts,  but  it  warn't 
nothing  to  Tom  Sawyer;  he  went  across  Sahara  and 
put  his  finger  on  it  as  easy  as  you  could  pick  a  nigger 
out  of  a  bunch  of  angels. 

We  found  a  pond  of  salt  water  close  by  and  scraped' 
up  a  raft  of  salt  around  the  edges,  and  loaded  up  the 
lion's  skin  and  the  tiger's  so  as  they  would  keep  till  Jim 
could  tan  them. 


CHAPTER   XL,/  j*,] 

THE  SAND-STORM        .'  V   T  .' •    : 

WE  went  a-fooling  along  for  a  day  or  two,  and  then 
just  as  the  full  moon  was  touching  the  ground 
on  the  other  side  of  the  desert,  we  see  a  string  of  little 
black  figgers  moving  across  its  big  silver  face.  You 
could  see  them  as  plain  as  if  they  was  painted  on  the 
moon  with  ink.  It  was  another  caravan.  We  cooled 
down  our  speed  and  tagged  along  after  it,  just  to  have 
company,  though  it  warn't  going  our  way.  It  was  a 
rattler,  that  caravan,  and  a  most  bully  sight  to  look  at 
next  morning  when  the  sun  come  a-streaming  across 
the  desert  and  flung  the  long  shadders  of  the  camels 
on  the  gold  sand  like  a  thousand  grand-daddy-long- 
legses  marching  in  procession.  We  never  went  very 
near  it,  because  we  knowed  better  now  than  to  act  like 
that  and  scare  people's  camels  and  break  up  their  cara 
vans.  It  was  the  gayest  outfit  you  ever  see,  for  rich 
clothes  and  nobby  style.  Some  of  the  chiefs  rode  on 
dromedaries,  the  first  we  ever  see,  and  very  tall,  and 
they  go  plunging  along  like  they  was  on  stilts,  and 
they  rock  the  man  that  is  on  them  pretty  violent  and 
churn  up  his  dinner  considerable,  I  bet  you,  but  they 

(101) 


102  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

make  noble  good  time,  and  a  camel  ain't  nowheres  with 
them  for  speed. 

The  caravan  camped,  during  the  middle  part  of  the 
day,  and  then  started  again  about  the  middle  of  the 
afternoon.  Before  long  the  sun  begun  to  look  very 
curious.  First'  it  kind  of  turned  to  brass,  and  then  to 
copper,  and 'after  that  it  begun  to  look  like  a  blood- 
rod'.  p^Hi  and  'the. air  got  hot  and  close,  and  pretty  soon 
all  the  sky  in  the  west  darkened  up  and  looked  thick 
and  foggy,  but  fiery  and  dreadful  —  like  it  looks 
through  a  piece  of  red  glass,  you  know.  We  looked 
down  and  see  a  big  confusion  going  on  in  the  caravan, 
and  a  rushing  every  which  way  like  they  was  scared; 
and  then  they  all  flopped  down  flat  in  the  sand  and 
laid  there  perfectly  still. 

Pretty  soon  we  see  something  coming  that  stood  up 
like  an  amazing  wide  wall,  and  reached  from  the  Desert 
up  into  the  sky  and  hid  the  sun,  and  it  was  coming 
like  the  nation,  too.  Then  a  little  faint  breeze  struck 
us,  and  then  it  come  harder,  and  grains  of  sand  begun 
to  sift  against  our  faces  and  sting  like  fire,  and  Tom 
sung  out: 

"  It's  a  sand-storm  —  turn  your  backs  to  it!" 

We  done  it ;  and  in  another  minute  it  was  blowing  a 
gale,  and  the  sand  beat  against  us  by  the  shovelful,  and 
the  air  was  so  thick  with  it  we  couldn't  see  a  thing.  In 
five  minutes  the  boat  was  level  full,  and  we  was  setting 
on  the  lockers  buried  up  to  the  chin  in  sand,  and  only 
our  heads  out  and  could  hardly  breathe. 

Then  the  storm  thinned,  and  we  see  that  monstrous 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  103 

wall  go  a-sailing  off  across  the  desert,  awful  to  look  at, 
I  tell  you.  We  dug  ourselves  out  and  looked  down, 
and  where  the  caravan  was  before  there  wasn't  any 
thing  but  just  the  sand  ocean  now,  and  all  still  and 
quiet.  All  them  people  and  camels  was  smothered  and 
dead  and  buried  —  buried  under  ten  foot  of  sand,  we 
reckoned,  and  Tom  allowed  it  might  be  years  before 
the  wind  uncovered  them,  and  all  that  time  their  friends 
wouldn't  ever  know  what  become  of  that  caravan. 
Tom  said : 

' '  Now  we  know  what  it  was  that  happened  to  the 
people  we  got  the  swords  and  pistols  from." 

Yes,  sir,  that  was  just  it.  It  was  as  plain  as  day 
now.  They  got  buried  in  a  sand-storm,  and  the  wild 
animals  couldn't  get  at  them,  and  the  wind  never  un 
covered  them  again  until  they  was  dried  to  leather  and 
warn't  fit  to  eat.  It  seemed  to  me  we  had  felt  as  sorry 
for  them  poor  people  as  a  person  could  for  anybody, 
and  as  mournful,  too,  but  we  was  mistaken;  this  last 
caravan's  death  went  harder  with  us,  a  good  deal 
harder.  You  see,  the  others  was  total  strangers,  and 
we  never  got  to  feeling  acquainted  with  them  at  all, 
except,  maybe,  a  little  with  the  man  that  was  watching 
the  girl,  but  it  was  different  with  this  last  caravan.  We 
was  huvvering  around  them  a  whole  night  and  'most  a 
whole  day,  and  had  got  to  feeling  real  friendly  with 
them,  and  acquainted.  I  have  found  out  that  there 
ain't  no  surer  way  to  find  out  whether  you  like  people 
or  hate  them  than  to  travel  with  them.  Just  so  with 
these.  We  kind  of  liked  them  from  the  start,  and 


104  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

traveling  with  them  put  on  the  finisher.  The  longer 
we  traveled  with  them,  and  the  more  we  got  used  to 
their  ways,  the  better  and  better  we  liked  them,  and 
the  gladder  and  gladder  we  was  that  we  run  across 
them.  We  had  come  to  know  some  of  them  so  well 
that  we  called  them  by  name  when  we  was  talking 
about  them,  and  soon  got  so  familiar  and  sociable  that 
we  even  dropped  the  Miss  and  Mister  and  just  used 
their  plain  names  without  any  handle,  and  it  did  not 
seem  unpolite,  but  just  the  right  thing.  Of  course,  it 
wasn't  their  own  names,  but  names  we  give  them. 
There  was  Mr.  Elexander  Robinson  and  Miss  Adaline 
Robinson,  and  Colonel  Jacob  McDougal  and  Miss 
Harryet  McDougal ,  and  Judge  Jeremiah  Butler  and 
young  Bushrod  Butler,  and  these  was  big  chiefs  mostly 
that  wore  splendid  great  turbans  and  simmeters,  and 
dressed  like  the  Grand  Mogul,  and  their  families.  But 
as  soon  as  we  come  to  know  them  good,  and  like  them 
very  much,  it  warn't  Mister,  nor  Judge,  nor  nothing, 
any  more,  but  only  Elleck,  and  Addy,  and  Jake,  and 
Hattie,  and  Jerry,  and  Buck,  and  so  on. 

And  you  know  the  more  you  join  in  with  people  in 
their  joys  and  their  sorrows,  the  more  nearer  and 
dearer  they  come  to  be  to  you.  Now  we  warn't  cold 
and  indifferent,  the  way  most  travelers  is,  we  was  right 
down  friendly  and  sociable,  and  took  a  chance  in  every 
thing  that  was  going,  and  the  caravan  could  depend  on 
us  to  be  on  hand  every  time,  it  didn't  make  no  differ 
ence  what  it  was. 

When  they  camped,  we  camped  right  over  them,  ten 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  105 

or  twelve  hundred  feet  up  in  the  air.  When  they  et  a 
meal,  we  et  ourn,  and  it  made  it  ever  so  much  home- 
liker  to  have  their  company.  When  they  had  a  wed 
ding  that  night,  and  Buck  and  Addy  got  married,  we 
got  ourselves  up  in  the  very  starchiest  of  the  professor's 
duds  for  the  blow-out,  and  when  they  danced  we  jined 
in.  and  shook  a  foot  up  there. 

But  it  is  sorrow  and  trouble  that  brings  you  the 
nearest,  and  it  was  a  funeral  that  done  it  with  us.  It 
was  next  morning,  just  in  the  still  dawn.  We  didn't 
know  the  diseased,  and  he  warn't  in  our  set,  but  that 
never  made  no  difference;  he  belonged  to  the  caravan, 
and  that  was  enough,  and  there  warn't  no  more  sincerer 
tears  shed  over  him  than  the  ones  we  dripped  on  him 
from  up  there  eleven  hundred  foot  on  high. 

Yes,  parting  with  this  caravan  was  much  more 
bitterer  than  it  was  to  part  with  them  others,  which  was 
comparative  strangers,  and  been  dead  so  long,  anyway. 
We  had  knowed  these  in  their  lives,  and  was  fond  of 
them,  too,  and  now  to  have  death  snatch  them  from 
right  before  our  faces  while  we  was  looking,  and  leave 
us  so  lonesome  and  friendless  in  the  middle  of  that  big 
desert,  it  did  hurt  so,  and  we  wished  we  mightn't  ever 
make  any  more  friends  on  that  voyage  if  we  was 
going  to  lose  them  again  like  that. 

We  couldn't  keep  from  talking  about  them,  and 
they  was  all  the  time  coming  up  in  our  memory,  and 
looking  just  the  way  they  looked  when  we  was  all  alive 
and  happy  together.  We  could  see  the  line  marching, 
and  the  shiny  spearheads  a-winking  in  the  sun;  we 


106  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

could  see  the  dromedaries  lumbering  along;  we  could 
see  the  wedding  and  the  funeral;  and  more  oftener 
than  anything  else  we  could  see  them  praying,  because 
they  don't  allow  nothing  to  prevent  that;  whenever 
the  call  come,  several  times  a  day,  they  would  stop 
right  there,  and  stand  up  and  face  to  the  east,  and  lift 
back  their  heads,  and  spread  out  their  arms  and  begin, 
and  four  or  five  times  they  would  go  down  on  their 
knees,  and  then  fall  forward  and  touch  their  forehead 
to  the  ground. 

Well,  it  warn't  good  to  go  on  talking  about  them, 
lovely  as  they  was  in  their  life,  and  dear  to  us  in  their 
life  and  death  both,  because  it  didn't  do  no  good,  and 
made  us  too  down-hearted.  Jim  allowed  he  was  going 
to  live  as  good  a  life  as  he  could,  so  he  could  see  them 
again  in  a  better  world;  and  Tom  kept  still  and  didn't 
tell  him  they  was  only  Mohammedans;  it  warn't  no 
use  to  disappoint  him,  he  was  feeling  bad  enough  just 
as  it  was. 

When  we  woke  up  next  morning  we  was  feeling  a 
little  cheerfuller,  and  had  had  a  most  powerful  good 
sleep,  because  sand  is  the  comfortablest  bed  there  is, 
and  I  don't  see  why  people  that  can  afford  it  don't 
have  it  more.  And  it's  terrible  good  ballast,  too;  I 
never  see  the  balloon  so  steady  before. 

Tom  allowed  we  had  twenty  tons  of  it,  and  wondered 
what  we  better  do  with  it;  it  was  good  sand,  and  it 
didn't  seem,  good  sense  to  throw  it  away.  Jim  says: 

'"'  Mars  Tom,  can't  we  tote  it  back  home  en  sell  it? 
How  long'll  it  take?" 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  107 

"  Depends  on  the  way  we  go." 

"  Well,  sah,  she's  wuth  a  quarter  of  a  dollar  a  load 
at  home,  en  I  reckon  we's  got  as  much  as  twenty 
loads,  hain't  we?  How  much  would  dat  be?" 

•'Five  dollars," 

"  By  jings,  Mars  Tom,  le's  shove  for  home  right  on 
de  spot!  Hit's  more'n  a  dollar  en  a  half  apiece,  hain't 
it?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  ef  dat  ain't  makin'  money  de  easiest  ever  / 
struck!  She  jes'  rained  in  —  never  cos'  us  a  lick  o' 
work.  Le's  mosey  right  along,  Mars  Tom." 

But  Tom  was  thinking  and  ciphering  away  so  busy 
and  excited  he  never  heard  him.  Pretty  soon  he  says: 

41  Five  dollars  —  sho  !  Look  here,  this  sand's  worth 
—  worth  —  why,  it's  worth  no  end  of  money." 

"  How  is  dat,  Mars  Tom?     Go  on,  honey,  go  on!" 

"  Well,  the  minute  people  knows  it's  genuwyne  sand 
from  the  genuwyne  Desert  of  Sahara,  they'll  just  be  in 
a  perfect  state  of  mind  to  git  hold  of  some  of  it  to 
keep  on  the  what-not  in  a  vial  with  a  label  on  it  for  a 
curiosity.  All  we  got  to  do  is  to  put  it  up  in  vials  and 
float  around  all  over  the  United  States  and  peddle  them 
out  at  ten  cents  apiece.  We've  got  all  of  ten  thousand 
dollars'  worth  of  sand  in  this  boat." 

Me  and  Jim  went  all  to  pieces  with  joy,  and  begun 
to  shout  whoopjamboreehoo,  and  Tom  says: 

"And  we  can  keep  on  coming  back  and  fetching 
sand,  and  coming  back  and  fetching  more  sand,  and 
just  keep  it  a-going  till  we've  carted  this  whole  Desert 


108  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

-..!^— ^ 

over  there  and  sold  it  out;  and  there  ain't  ever  going 
to  be  any  opposition,  either,  because  we'll  take  out  a 
patent." 

"  My  goodness,"  I  says,  4<  we'll  be  as  rich  as  Creo 
sote,  won't  we,  Tom?" 

"  Yes  —  Creesus,  you  mean.  Why,  that  dervish  was 
hunting  in  that  little  hill  for  the  treasures  of  the  earth, 
and  didn't  know  he  was  walking  over  the  real  ones  for 
a  thousand  miles.  He  was  blinder  than  he  made  the 
driver." 

"  Mars  Tom,  how  much  is  we  gwyne  to  be  worth?" 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  yet.  It's  got  to  be  ciphered, 
and  it  ain't  the  easiest  job  to  do,  either,  because  it's 
over  four  million  square  miles  of  sand  at  ten  cents  a 
vial." 

Jim  was  awful  excited,  but  this  faded  it  out  consider 
able,  and  he  shook  his  head  and  says: 

11  Mars  Tom,  we  can't  'ford  all  dem  vials  —  a  king 
couldn't.  We  better  not  try  to  take  de  whole  Desert, 
Mars  Tom,  de  vials  gwyne  to  bust  us,  sho'." 

Tom's  excitement  died  out,  too,  now,  and  I  reck 
oned  it  was  on  account  of  the  vials,  but  it  wasn't.  He 
set  there  thinking,  and  got  bluer  and  bluer,  and  at  last 
he  says: 

"  Boys,  it  won't  work;  we  got  to  give  it  up." 

"Why,  Tom?" 

"  On  account  of  the  duties." 

I  couldn't  make  nothing  out  of  that,  neither  could 
Jim.  I  says: 

"  What  is  our  duty,  Tom?     Because  if  we  can't  git 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  109 

around  it,  why  can't  we  just  do  it?  People  often  has 
to." 

But  he  says : 

**  Oh,  it  ain't  that  kind  of  duty.  The  kind  I  mean 
is  a  tax.  Whenever  you  strike  a  frontier  —  that's  the 
border  of  a  country,  you  know  —  you  find  a  custom 
house  there,  and  the  gov'ment  officers  comes  and  rum 
mages  among  your  things  and  charges  a  big  tax,  which 
they  call  a  duty  because  it's  their  duty  to  bust  you  if 
they  can,  and  if  you  don't  pay  the  duty  they'll  hog 
your  sand.  They  call  it  confiscating,  but  that  don't 
deceive  nobody,  it's  just  hogging,  and  that's  all  it  is. 
Now  if  we  try  to  carry  this  sand  home  the  way  we're 
pointed  now,  we  got  to  climb  fences  till  we  git  tired  — 
just  frontier  after  frontier  —  Egypt,  Arabia,  Hindostan, 
and  so  on,  and  they'll  all  whack  on  a  duty,  and  so  you 
see,  easy  enough,  we  can ' t  go  that  road." 

'*  Why,  Tom,"  I  says,  "  we  can  sail  right  over  their 
old  frontiers;  how  are  they  going  to  stop  us?" 

He  looked  sorrowful  at  me,  and  says,  very  grave : 

"  Huck  Finn,  do  you  think  that  would  be  honest?" 

I  hate  them  kind  of  interruptions.  I  never  said 
nothing,  and  he  went  on : 

;<  Well,  we're  shut  off  the  other  way,  too.  If  we  go 
back  the  way  we've  come,  there's  the  New  York 
custom-house,  and  that  is  worse  than  all  of  them  others 
put  together,  on  account  of  the  kind  of  cargo  we've 
got." 

"Why?" 

41  Well,  they  can't  raise  Sahara  sand  in  America,  of 


110  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

course,  and  when  they  can't  raise  a  thing  there,  the 
duty  is  fourteen  hundred  thousand  per  cent,  on  it  if 
you  try  to  fetch  it  in  from  where  they  do  raise  it." 

**  There  ain't  no  sense  in  that,  Tom  Sawyer." 

"Who  said  there  was?  What  do  you  talk  to  me 
like  that  for,  Huck  Finn?  You  wait  till  I  say  a  thing's 
got  sense  in  it  before  you  go  to  accusing  me  of  say 
ing  it." 

"  All  right,  consider  me  crying  about  it,  and  sorry. 
Go  on." 

Jim  says: 

"  Mars  Tom,  do  dey  jam  dat  duty  onto  everything 
we  can't  raise  in  America,  en  don't  make  no  'stinction 
'twix'  anything?" 

11  Yes,  that's  what  they  do." 

"  Mars  lorn,  ain't  de  blessin'  o'  de  Lord  de  mos' 
valuable  thing  dey  is?" 

"Yes,  it  is." 

"  Don't  de  preacher  stan'  up  in  de  pulpit  en  call  it 
down  on  de  people?" 

"Yes." 

11  Whah  do  it  come  from?" 

11  From  heaven." 

"  Yassir !  you's  jes'  right,  'deed  you  is,  honey  —  it 
come  from  heaven,  en  dat's  a  foreign  country.  Now, 
den  !  do  dey  put  a  tax  on  dat  blessin'  ?" 

"No,  they  don't." 

"Course  dey  don't;  en  so  it  stan'  to  reason  dat 
you's  mistaken,  Mars  Tom.  Dey  wouldn't  put  de  tax 
on  po'  truck  like  san',  dat  everybody  ain't  'bleeged  to 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  111 

have,  en  leave  it  off  n  de  bes'  thing  dey  is,  which 
nobody  can't  git  along  widout." 

Tom  Sawyer  was  stumped ;  he  see  Jim  had  got  him 
where  he  couldn't  budge.  He  tried  to  wiggle  out  by 
saying  they  had  forgot  to  put  on  that  tax,  but  they'd 
be  sure  to  remember  about  it,  next  session  of  Con 
gress,  and  then  they'd  put  it  on,  but  that  was  a  poor 
lame  come-off,  and  he  knowed  it.  He  said  there 
warn't  nothing  foreign  that  warn't  taxed  but  just  that 
one,  and  so  they  couldn't  be  consistent  without  taxing 
it,  and  to  be  consistent  was  the  first  law  of  politics. 
So  he  stuck  to  it  that  they'd  left  it  out  unintentional 
and  would  be  certain  to  do  their  best  to  fix  it  before 
they  got  caught  and  laughed  at. 

But  I  didn't  feel  no  more  interest  in  such  things,  as 
long  as  we  couldn't  git  our  sand  through,  and  it  made 
me  low-spirited,  and  Jim  the  same,  Tom  he  tried  to 
cheer  us  up  by  saying  he  would  think  up  another 
speculation  for  us  that  would  be  just  as  good  as  this 
one  and  better,  but  it  didn't  do  no  good,  we  didn't 
believe  there  was  any  as  big  as  this.  It  was  mighty 
hard;  such  a  little  while  ago  we  was  so  rich,  and  could 
'a'  bought  a  country  and  started  a  kingdom  and  been 
celebrated  and  happy,  and  now  we  was  so  poor  and 
ornery  again,  and  had  our  sand  left  on  our  hands. 
The  sand  was  looking  so  lovely  before,  just  like  gold 
and  di'monds,  and  the  feel  of  it  was  so  soft  and  so 
silky  and  nice,  but  now  I  couldn't  bear  the  sight  of  it, 
it  made  me  sick  to  look  at  it,  and  I  knowed  I  wouldn't 
ever  feel  comfortable  again  till  we  got  shut  of  it,  and  I 


112  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

didn't  have  it  there  no  more  to  remind  us  of  what  we 
had  been  and  what  we  had  got  degraded  down  to. 
The  others  was  feeling  the  same  way  about  it  that  I 
was.  I  knowed  it,  because  they  cheered  up  so,  the 
minute  I  says  le's  throw  this  truck  overboard. 

Well,  it  was  going  to  be  work,  you  know,  and  pretty 
solid  work,  too;  so  Tom  he  divided  it  up  according  to 
fairness  and  strength.  He  said  me  and  him  would 
clear  out  a  fifth  apiece  of  the  sand,  and  Jim  three- 
fifths.  Jim  he  didn't  quite  like  that  arrangement.  He 
says: 

J'  Course  I's  de  stronges',  en  Fs  willin'  to  do  a  share 
accordin',  but  by  jings  you's  kinder  pilin'  it  onto  ole 
Jim,  Mars  Tom,  hain't  you?" 

11  Well,  I  didn't  think  so,  Jim,  but  you  try  your  hand 
at  fixing  it,  and  let's  see." 

So  Jim  reckoned  it  wouldn't  be  no  more  than  fair  if 
me  and  Tom  done  a  tenth  apiece.  Tom  he  turned  his 
back  to  git  room  and  be  private,  and  then  he  smole  a 
smile  that  spread  around  and  covered  the  whole  Sahara 
to  the  westward,  back  to  the  Atlantic  edge  of  it  where 
we  come  from.  Then  he  turned  around  again  and 
said  it  was  a  good  enough  arrangement,  and  we  was 
satisfied  if  Jim  was.  Jim  said  he  was. 

So  then  Tom  measured  off  our  two-tenths  in  the 
bow  and  left  the  rest  for  Jim,  and  it  surprised  Jim  a 
good  deal  to  see  how  much  difference  there  was  and 
what  a  raging  lot  of  sand  his  share  come  to,  and  said 
he  was  powerful  glad  now  that  he  had  spoke  up  in  time 
and  got  the  first  arrangement  altered,  for  he  said  that 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  113 

even  the  way  it  was   now,  there  was   more  sand  than 
enjoyment  in  his  end  of  the  contract,  he  believed. 

Then  we  laid  into  it.  It  was  mighty  hot  work,  and 
tough ;  so  hot  we  had  to  move  up  into  cooler  weather 
or  we  couldn't  'a'  stood  it.  Me  and  Tom  took  turn 
about,  and  one  worked  while  t'other  rested,  but  there 
warn't  nobody  to  spell  poor  old  Jim,  and  he  made  all 
that  part  of  Africa  damp,  he  sweated  so.  We  couldn't 
work  good,  we  was  so  full  of  laugh,  and  Jim  he  kept 
fretting  and  wanting  to  know  what  tickled  us  so,  and 
we  had  to  keep  making  up  things  to  account  for  it,  and 
they  was  pretty  poor  inventions,  but  they  done  well 
enough,  Jim  didn't  see  through  them.  At  last  when 
we  got  done  we  was  'most  dead,  but  not  with  work 
but  with  laughing.  By  and  by  Jim  was  'most  dead, 
too,  but  it  was  with  work;  then  we  took  turns  and 
spelled  him,  and  he  was  as  thankful  as  he  could  be, 
and  would  set  on  the  gunnel  and  swab  the  sweat,  and 
heave  and  pant,  and  say  how  good  we  was  to  a  poor 
old  nigger,  and  he  wouldn't  ever  forgit  us.  He  was 
always  the  gratefulest  nigger  I  ever  see,  for  any  little 
thing  you  done  for  him.  He  was  only  nigger  outside; 
inside  he  was  as  white  as  you  be. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

JIM  STANDING  SIEGE 

THE  next  few  meals  was  pretty .  sandy,  but  that 
don't  make  no  difference  when  you  are  hungry; 
and  when  you  ain't  it  ain't  no  satisfaction  to  eat,  any 
way,  and  so  a  little  grit  in  the  meat  ain't  no  particular 
drawback,  as  far  as  I  can  see. 

Then  we  struck  the  east  end  of  the  Desert  at  last, 
sailing  on  a  northeast  course.  Away  off  on  the  edge 
of  the  sand,  in  a  soft  pinky  light,  we  see  three  little 
sharp  roofs  like  tents,  and  Tom  says: 

"It's  the  pyramids  of  Egypt." 

It  made  my  heart  fairly  jump.  You  see,  I  had  seen 
a  many  and  a  many  a  picture  of  them,  and  heard  tell 
about  them  a  hundred  times,  and  yet  to  come  on  them 
all  of  a  sudden,  that  way,  and  find  they  was  real,  'stead 
of  imaginations,  'most  knocked  the  breath  out  of  me 
with  surprise.  It's  a  curious  thing,  that  the  more  you 
hear  about  a  grand  and  big  and  bully  thing  or  person, 
the  more  it  kind  of  dreamies  out,  as  you  may  say,  and 
gets  to  be  a  big  dim  wavery  figger  made  out  of  moon 
shine  and  nothing  solid  to  it.  It's  just  so  with  George 
Washington,  and  the  same  with  them  pyramids. 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  115 

And  moreover,  besides,  the  thing  they  always  said 
about  them  seemed  to  me  to  be  stretchers.  There  was 
a  feller  come  to  the  Sunday-school  once,  and  had  a 
picture  of  them,  and  made  a  speech,  and  said  the  big 
gest  pyramid  covered  thirteen  acres,  and  was  most  five 
hundred  foot  high,  just  a  steep  mountain,  all  built  out 
of  hunks  of  stone  as  big  as  a  bureau,  and  laid  up 
in  perfectly  regular  layers,  like  stair-steps.  Thirteen 
acres,  you  see,  for  just  one  building;  it's  a  farm.  If 
it  hadn't  been  in  Sunday-school,  I  would  'a'  judged  it 
was  a  lie ;  and  outside  I  was  certain  of  it.  And  he 
said  there  was  a  hole  in  the  pyramid,  and  you  could  go 
in  there  with  candles,  and  go  ever  so  far  up  a  long 
slanting  tunnel,  and  come  to  a  large  room  in  the 
stomach  of  that  stone  mountain,  and  there  you  would 
find  a  big  stone  chest  with  a  king  in  it,  four  thousand 
years  old.  I  said  to  myself,  then,  if  that  ain't  a  lie  I 
will  eat  that  king  if  they  will  fetch  him,  for  even 
Methusalem  warn't  that  old,  and  nobody  claims  it. 

As  we  come  a  little  nearer  we  see  the  yaller  sand 
come  to  an  end  in  a  long  straight  edge  like  a  blanket, 
and  on  to  it  was  joined,  edge  to  edge,  a  wide  country 
of  bright  green,  with  a  snaky  stripe  crooking  through 
it,  and  Tom  said  it  was  the  Nile.  It  made  my  heart 
jump  again,  for  the  Nile  was  another  thing  that  wasn't 
real  to  me.  Now  I  can  tell  you  one  thing  which  is 
dead  certain :  if  you  will  fool  along  over  three  thou 
sand  miles  of  yaller  sand,  all  glimmering  with  heat  so 
that  it  makes  your  eyes  water  to  look  at  it,  and  you've 
been  a  considerable  part  of  a  week  doing  it,  the  green 
H*» 


116  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

country  will  look  so  like  home  and  heaven  to  you  that 
it  will  make  your  eyes  water  again. 

It  was  just 'so  with  me,  and  the  same  with  Jim. 

And  when  Jim  got  so  he  could  believe  it  was  the 
land  of  Egypt  he  was  looking  at,  he  wouldn't  enter  it 
standing  up,  but  got  down  on  his  knees  and  took  off 
his  hat,  because  he  said  it  wasn't  fitten'  for  a  humble 
poor  nigger  to  come  any  other  way  where  such  men 
had  been  as  Moses  and  Joseph  and  Pharaoh  and  the 
other  prophets.  He  was  a  Presbyterian,  and  had  a 
most  deep  respect  for  Moses  which  was  a  Presbyterian, 
too,  he  said.  He  was  all  stirred  up,  and  says: 

"Hit's  de  Ian'  of  Egypt,  de  Ian*  of  Egypt,  en  I's 
'lowed  to  look  at  it  wid  my  own  eyes  !  En  dah's  de 
river  dat  was  turn'  to  blood,  en  I's  looking  at  de  very 
same  groun'  whah  de  plagues  was,  en  de  lice,  en  de 
frogs,  en  de  locus',  en  de  hail,  en  whah  dey  marked 
de  door-pos',  en  de  angel  o'  de  Lord  come  by  in  de 
darkness  o'  de  night  en  slew  de  fust-born  in  all  de  Ian' 
o'  Egypt.  Ole  Jim  ain't  worthy  to  see  dis  day!" 

And  then  he  just  broke  down  and  cried,  he  was  so 
thankful.  So  between  him  and  Tom  there  was  talk 
enough,  Jim  being  excited  because  the  land  was  so  full 
of  history  —  Joseph  and  his  brethren,  Moses  in  the 
bulrushers,  Jacob  coming  down  into  Egypt  to  buy 
corn,  the  silver  cup  in  the  sack,  and  all  them  interesting 
things;  and  Tom  just  as  excited  too,  because  the  land 
was  so  full  of  history  that  was  in  his  line,  about 
Noureddin,  and  Bedreddin,  and  such  like  monstrous 
giants,  that  made  Jim's  wool  rise,  and  a  raft  of  other 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  117 

Arabian  Nights  folks,  which  the  half  of  them  never 
done  the  things  they  let  on  they  done,  I  don't  believe. 

Then  we  struck  a  disappointment,  for  one  of  them 
early  morning  fogs  started  up,  and  it  warn't  no  use  to 
sail  over  the  top  of  it,  because  we  would  go  by  Egypt, 
sure,  so  we  judged  it  was  best  to  set  her  by  compass 
straight  for  the  place  where  the  pyramids  was  gitting 
blurred  and  blotted  out,  and  then  drop  low  and  skin 
along  pretty  close  to  the  ground  and  keep  a  sharp 
lookout.  Tom  took  the  helium,  I  stood  by  to  let  go 
the  anchor,  and  Jim  he  straddled  the  bow  to  dig 
through  the  fog  with  his  eyes  and  watch  out  for  danger 
ahead.  We  went  along  a  steady  gait,  but  not  very 
fast,  and  the  fog  got  solider  and  solider,  so  solid  that 
Jim  looked  dim  and  ragged  and  smoky  through  it.  It 
was  awful  still,  and  we  talked  low  and  was  anxious. 
Now  and  then  Jim  would  say : 

"  Highst  her  a  p'int,  Mars  Tom,  highst  her!"  and 
up  she  would  skip,  a  foot  or  two,  and  we  would  slide 
right  over  a  flat-roofed  mud  cabin,  with  people  that 
had  been  asleep  on  it  just  beginning  to  turn  out  and 
gap  and  stretch ;  and  once  when  a  feller  was  clear  up 
on  his  hind  legs  so  he  could  gap  and  stretch  better,  we 
took  him  a  blip  in  the  back  and  knocked  him  off.  By 
and  by,  after  about  an  hour,  and  everything  dead  still 
and  we  a-straining  our  ears  for  sounds  and  holding  our 
breath,  the  fog  thinned  a  little,  very  sudden,  and  Jim 
sung  out  in  an  awful  scare : 

"  Oh,  for  de  lan's  sake,  set  her  back,  Mars  Tom, 
here's  de  biggest  giant  outen  de  'Rabian  Nights  a- 


118  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

comin'  for  us!"   and   he   went  over  backwards  in  the 
boat. 

Tom  slammed  on  the  back-action,  and  as  we  slowed 
to  a  standstill  a  man's  face  as  big  as  our  house  at  home 
looked  in  over  the  gunnel,  same  as  a  house  looks  out 
of  its  windows,  and  I  laid  down  and  died.  I  must  'a* 
been  clear  dead  and  gone  for  as  much  as  a  minute  or 
more;  then  I  come  to,  and  Tom  had  hitched  a  boat- 
hook  on  to  the  lower  lip  of  the  giant  and  was  holding 
the  balloon  steady  with  it  whilst  he  canted  his  head 
back  and  got  a  good  long  look  up  at  that  awful  face. 

Jim  was  on  his  knees  with  his  hands  clasped,  gazing 
up  at  the  thing  in  a  begging  way,  and  working  his  lips, 
but  not  getting  anything  out.  I  took  only  just  a 
glimpse,  and  was  fading  out  again,  but  Tom  says: 

"  He  ain't  alive,  you  fools;   it's  the  Sphinx!" 

I  never  see  Tom  look  so  little  and  like  a  fly; 
but  that  was  because  the  giant's  head  was  so  big  and 
awful.  Awful,  yes,  so  it  was,  but  not  dreadful  any 
more,  because  you  could  see  it  was  a  noble  face, 
and  kind  of  sad,  and  not  thinking  about  you,  but  about 
other  things  and  larger.  It  was  stone,  reddish  stone, 
and  its  nose  and  ears  battered,  and  that  give  it  an 
abused  look,  and  you  felt  sorrier  for  it  for  that. 

We  stood  off  a  piece,  and  sailed  around  it  and  over 
it,  and  it  was  just  grand.  It  was  a  man's  head,  or 
maybe  a  woman's,  on  a  tiger's  body  a  hundred  and. 
twenty-five  foot  long,  and  there  was  a  dear  little  temple 
between  its  front  paws.  All  but  the  head  used  to  be 
under  the  sand,  for  hundreds  of  years,  maybe  thou- 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  119 

sands,  but  they  had  just  lately  dug  the  sand  away  and 
found  that  little  temple.  It  took  a  power  of  sand  to 
bury  that  cretur ;  most  as  much  as  it  would  to  bury  a 
steamboat,  I  reckon. 

We  landed  Jim  on  top  of  the  head,  with  an  American 
flag  to  protect  him,  it  being  a  foreign  land;  then  we 
sailed  off  to  this  and  that  and  t'other  distance,  to  git 
what  Tom  called  effects  and  perspectives  and  propor 
tions,  and  Jim  he  done  the  best  he  could,  striking  all 
the  different  kinds  of  attitudes  and  positions  he  could 
study  up,  but  standing  on  his  head  and  working  his 
legs  the  way  a  frog  does  was  the  best.  The  further  we 
got  away,  the  littler  Jim  got,  and  the  grander  the 
Sphinx  got,  till  at  last  it  was  only  a  clothespin  on  a 
dome,  as  you  might  say.  That's  the  way  perspective 
brings  out  the  correct  proportions,  Tom  said ;  he  said 
Julus  Cesar's  niggers  didn't  know  how  big  he  was, 
they  was  too  close  to  him. 

Then  we  sailed  off  further  and  further,  till  we 
couldn't  see  Jim  at  all  any  more,  and  then  that  great 
figger  was  at  its  noblest,  a-gazing  out  over  the  Nile 
Valley  so  still  and  solemn  and  lonesome,  and  all  the 
little  shabby  huts  and  things  that  was  scattered  about  it 
clean  disappeared  and  gone,  and  nothing  around  it  now 
but  a  soft  wide  spread  of  yaller  velvet,  which  was  the 
sand. 

That  was  the  right  place  to  stop,  and  we  done  it. 
We  set  there  a-looking  and  a-thinking  for  a  half  an 
hour,  nobody  a-saying  anything,  for  it  made  us  feel 
quiet  and  kind  of  solemn  to  remember  it  had  been 


120  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

looking  over  that  valley  just  that  same  way,  and  think 
ing  its  awful  thoughts  all  to  itself  for  thousands  of 
years,  and  nobody  can't  find  out  what  they  are  to  this 
day. 

At  last  I  took  up  the  glass  and  see  some  little  black 
things  a-capering  around  on  that  velvet  carpet,  and 
some  more  a-climbing  up  the  cretur's  back,  and  then  I 
see  two  or  three  wee  puffs  of  white  smoke,  and  told 
Tom  to  look.  He  done  it,  and  says : 

1 '  They're  bugs.  No  —  hold  on ;  they  —  why,  I  be 
lieve  they're  men.  Yes,  it's  men — men  and  horses 
both.  They're  hauling  a  long  ladder  up  onto  the 
Sphinx's  back —  now  ain't  that  odd?  And  now  they're 
trying  to  lean  it  up  a  —  there's  some  more  puffs  of 
smoke  —  it's  guns!  Huck,  they're  after  Jim." 

We  clapped  on  the  power,  and  went  for  them  a- 
biling.  We  was  there  in  no  time,  and  come  a-whizzing 
down  amongst  them,  and  they  broke  and  scattered  every 
which  way,  and  some  that  was  climbing  the  ladder  after 
Jim  let  go  all  holts  and  fell.  We  soared  up  and  found 
him  laying  on  top  of  the  head  panting  and  most 
tuckered  out,  partly  from  howling  for  help  and  partly 
from  scare.  He  had  been  standing  a  siege  a  long  time 
—  a  week,  he  said,  but  it  warn't  so,  it  only  just  seemed 
so  to  him  because  they  was  crowding  him  so.  They 
had  shot  at  him,  and  rained  the  bullets  all  around  him, 
but  he  warn't  hit,  and  when  they  found  he  wouldn't 
stand  up  and  the  bullets  couldn't  git  at  him  when  he 
was  laying  down,  they  went  for  the  ladder,  and  then 
he  knowed  it  was  all  up  with  him  if  we  didn't  come 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  121 

pretty  quick.  Tom  was  very  indignant,  and  asked  him 
why  he  didn't  show  the  flag  and  command  them  to  git, 
in  the  name  of  the  United  States.  Jim  said  he  done 
it,  but  they  never  paid  no  attention.  Tom  said  he 
would  have  this  thing  looked  into  at  Washington,  and 
says: 

"  You'll  see  that  they'll  have  to  apologize  for  insult 
ing  the  flag,  and  pay  an  indemnity,  too,  on  top  of  it, 
even  if  they  git  off  that  easy." 

Jim  says : 

"  What's  an  indemnity,  Mars  Tom?" 

"It's  cash,  that's  what  it  is.1' 

"  Who  gits  it,  Mars  Tom?" 

"Why,  we  do.'1 

"  En  who  gits  de  apology?" 

"The  United  States.  Or,  we  can  take  whichever 
we  please.  We  can  take  the  apology,  if  we  want  to, 
and  let  the  gov'ment  take  the  money." 

"  How  much  money  will  it  be,  Mars  Tom?" 

"Well,  in  an  aggravated  case  like  this  one,  it  will 
be  at  least  three  dollars  apiece,  and  I  don't  know  but 
more." 

"  Well,  den,  we'll  take  de  money,  Mars  Tom,  blame 
de  'pology.  Hain't  dat  yo'  notion,  too?  En  hain't  it 
yourn,  Huck?" 

We  talked  it  over  a  little  and  allowed  that  that  was  as 
good  a  way  as  any,  so  we  agreed  to  take  the  money. 
It  was  a  new  business  to  me,  and  I  asked  Tom  if 
countries  always  apologized  when  they  had  done  wrong, 
and  he  says : 


122  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

"Yes;  the  little  ones  does." 

We  was  sailing  around  examining  the  pyramids,  you 
know,  and  now  we  soared  up  and  roosted  on  the  flat  top 
of  the  biggest  one,  and  found  it  was  just  like  what  the 
man  said  in  the  Sunday-school.  It  was  like  four  pairs 
of  stairs  that  starts  broad  at  the  bottom  and  slants  up 
and  comes  together  in  a  point  at  the  top,  only  these 
stair-steps  couldn't  be  clumb  the  way  you  climb  other 
stairs;  no,  for  each  step  was  as  high  as  your  chin,  and 
you  have  to  be  boosted  up  from  behind.  The  two 
other  pyramids  warn't  far  away,  and  the  people  moving 
about  on  the  sand  between  looked  like  bugs  crawling, 
we  was  so  high  above  them. 

Tom  he  couldn't  hold  himself  he  was  so  worked  up 
with  gladness  and  astonishment  to  be  in  such  a  cele 
brated  place,  and  he  just  dripped  history  from  every 
pore,  seemed  to  me.  He  said  he  couldn't  scarcely 
believe  he  was  standing  on  the  very  identical  spot  the 
prince  flew  from  on  the  Bronze  Horse.  It  was  in  the 
Arabian  Night  times,  he  said.  Somebody  give  the 
prince  a  bronze  horse  with  a  peg  in  its  shoulder,  and 
he  could  git  on  him  and  fly  through  the  air  like  a  bird, 
and  go  all  over  the  world,  and  steer  it  by  turning  the 
peg,  and  fly  high  or  low  and  land  wherever  he  wanted 
to. 

When  he  got  done  telling  it  there  was  one  of  them 
uncomfortable  silences  that  comes,  you  know,  when  a 
person  has  been  telling  a  whopper  and  you  feel  sorry 
for  him  and  wish  you  could  think  of  some  way  to 
change  the  subject  and  let  him  down  easy,  but  git  stuck 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  123 

and  don't  see  no  way,  and  before  you  can  pull  your 
mind  together  and  do  something,  that  silence  has  got  in 
and  spread  itself  and  done  the  business.  I  was  embar 
rassed,  Jim  he  was  embarrassed,  and  neither  of  us 
couldn't  say  a  word.  Well,  Tom  he  glowered  at  me  a 
minute,  and  says: 

"  Come,  out  with  it.     What  do  you  think?" 

I  says : 

"Tom  Sawyer,  you  don't  believe  that,  yourself," 

"What's  the  reason  I  don't?  What's  to  hendei 
me?" 

"There's  one  thing  to  hender  you:  it  couldn't 
happen,  that's  all." 

"  What's  the  reason  it  couldn't  happen?" 

"  You  tell  me  the  reason  it  could  happen." 

"This  balloon  is  a  good  enough  reason  it  could 
happen,  I  should  reckon." 

"  JTOj/isit?" 

"  Why  is  it?  I  never  saw  such  an  idiot.  Ain't  this 
balloon  and  the  bronze  horse  the  same  thing  under 
different  names?" 

"  No,  they're  not.  One  is  a  balloon  and  the  other's 
a  horse.  It's  very  different.  Next  you'll  be  saying  a 
house  and  a  cow  is  the  same  thing." 

"  By  Jackson,  Huck's  got  him  ag'in  !  Dey  ain't  no 
wigglin'  outer  dat!" 

Shut  your  head,  Jim ;  you  don't  know  what  you're 
talking  about.  And  Huck  don't.  Look  here,  Huck, 
I'll  make  it  plain  to  you,  so  you  can  understand.  You 
see,  it  ain't  the  mere  form  that's  got  anything  to  do 


124  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

with  their  being  similar  or  unsimilar,  it's  the  princi 
ple  involved ;  and  the  principle  is  the  same  in  both. 
Don't  you  see,  now?" 

I  turned  it  over  in  my  mind,  and  says: 

"Tom,  it  ain't  no  use.  Principles  is  all  very  well, 
but  they  don't  git  around  that  one  big  fact,  that  the 
thing  that  a  balloon  can  do  ain't  no  sort  of  proof  of 
what  a  horse  can  do." 

II  Shucks,  Huck,  you  don't  get  the  idea  at  all.     Now 
look  here  a  minute  —  it's  perfectly  plain.     Don't  we 
fly  through  the  air?" 

"Yes." 

"Very  well.  Don't  we  fly  high  or  fly  low,  just  as 
we  please?" 

"Yes." 

"  Don't  we  steer  whichever  way  we  want  to?" 

"Yes." 

"And  don't  we  land   when   and  where  we  please?" 

"Yes." 

"  How  do  we  move  the   balloon  and   steer  it?" 

"  By  touching  the  buttons." 

"  Now  I  reckon  the  thing  is  clear  to  you  at  last.  In 
the  other  case  the  moving  and  steering  was  done  by 
turning  a  peg.  We  touch  a  button,  the  prince  turned 
a  peg.  There  ain't  an  atom  of  difference,  you  see.  I 
knowed  I  could  git  it  through  your  head  if  I  stuck  to  it 
long  enough." 

He  felt  so  happy  he  begun  to  whistle.  But  me  and 
Jim  was  silent,  so  he  broke  off  surprised,  and  says: 

"  Looky  here,  Huck  Finn,  don't  you  see  it  yet?' ' 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  125 

I  says: 

"  Tom  Sawyer,  I  want  to  ask  you  some  questions." 

"Go  ahead,"  he  says,  and  I  see  Jim  chirk  up  to 
listen. 

44  As  I  understand  it,  the  whole  thing  is  in  the  buttons 
and  the  peg — the  rest  ain't  of  no  consequence.  A 
button  is  one  shape,  a  peg  is  another  shape,  but  that 
ain't  any  matter?" 

44  No,  that  ain't  any  matter,  as  long  as  they've  both 
got  the  same  power." 

"All  right,  then.  What  is  the  power  that's  in  a 
candle  and  in  a  match?" 

4 'It's  the  fire." 

II  It's  the  same  in  both,  then?" 
'*  Yes,  just  the  same  in  both." 

"  All  right.  Suppose  I  set  fire  to  a  carpenter  shop 
with  a  match,  what  will  happen  to  that  carpenter 
shop?" 

44  She'll  burn  up." 

4  4  And  suppose  I  set  fire  to  this  pyramid  with  a 
candle  —  will  she  burn  up?" 

44Of  course  she  won't." 

4 'All  right.  Now  the  fire's  the  same,  both  times. 
Why  does  the  shop  burn,  and  the  pyramid  don't?" 

44  Because  the  pyramid  can't  burn." 

44  Aha  !   and  a  horse  can't  fly!" 

44  My  Ian',  ef  Huck  ain't  got  him  ag'in !  Huck's 
landed  him  high  en  dry  dis  time,  /  tell  you  !  Hit's 
de  smartes'  trap  I  ever  see  a  body  walk  inter  —  en 
ef  I— " 


126  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

But  Jim  was  so  full  of  laugh  he  got  to  strangling  and 
couldn't  go  on,  and  Tom  was  that  mad  to  see  how  neat 
I  had  floored  him,  and  turned  his  own  argument  ag'in 
him  and  knocked  him  all  to  rags  and  flinders  with  it, 
that  all  he  could  manage  to  say  was  that  whenever  he 
heard  me  and  Jim  try  to  argue  it  made  him  ashamed 
of  the  human  race.  I  never  said  nothing;  I  was  feel 
ing  pretty  well  satisfied.  When  I  have  got  the  best  of 
a  person  that  way,  it  ain't  my  way  to  go  around  crow 
ing  about  it  the  way  some  people  does,  for  I  consider 
that  if  I  was  in  his  place  I  wouldn't  wish  him  to  crow 
over  me.  It's  better  to  be  generous,  that's  what  I 
think. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

GOING  FOR  TOM'S  PIPE 

BY  AND  BY  we  left  Jim  to  float  around  up  there  in 
the  neighborhood  of  the  pyramids,  and  we  dumb 
down  to  the  hole  where  you  go  into  the  tunnel,  and 
went  in  with  some  Arabs  and  candles,  and  away  in 
there  in  the  middle  of  the  pyramid  we  found  a  room  and 
a  big  stone  box  in  it  where  they  used  to  keep  that  king, 
just  as  the  man  in  the  Sunday-school  said ;  but  he  was 
gone,  now;  somebody  had  got  him.  But  I  didn't  take 
no  interest  in  the  place,  because  there  could  be  ghosts 
there,  of  course;  not  fresh  ones,  but  I  don't  like  no 
kind. 

So  then  we  come  out  and  got  some  little  donkeys  and 
rode  a  piece,  and  then  went  in  a  boat  another  piece, 
and  then  more  donkeys,  and  got  to  Cairo  ;  and  all  the  way 
the  road  was  as  smooth  and  beautiful  a  road  as  ever  I 
see,  and  had  tall  date-pa'ms  on  both  sides,  and  naked 
children  everywhere,  and  the  men  was  as  red  as  copper, 
and  fine  and  strong  and  handsome.  And  the  city  was 
a  curiosity.  Such  narrow  streets  —  why,  they  were 
just  lanes,  and  crowded  with  people  with  turbans,  and 
women  with  veils,  and  everybody  rigged  out  in  blazing 
9  (127) 


128  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

bright  clothes  and  all  sorts  of  colors,  and  you  wondered 
how  the  camels  and  the  people  got  by  each  other  in 
such  narrow  little  cracks,  but  they  done  it  —  a  perfect 
jam,  you  see,  and  everybody  noisy.  The  stores  warn't 
big  enough  to  turn  around  in,  but  you  didn't  have  to 
go  in ;  the  storekeeper  sat  tailor  fashion  on  his  counter, 
smoking  his  snaky  long  pipe,  and  had  his  things  where 
he  could  reach  them  to  sell,  and  he  was  just  as  good  as 
in  the  street,  for  the  camel-loads  brushed  him  as  they 
went  by. 

Now  and  then  a  grand  person  flew  by  in  a  carriage 
with  fancy  dressed  men  running  and  yelling  in  front  of 
it  and  whacking  anybody  with  a  long  rod  that  didn't 
get  out  of  the  way.  And  by  and  by  along  comes  the 
Sultan  riding  horseback  at  the  head  of  a  procession, 
and  fairly  took  your  breath  away  his  clothes  was  so 
splendid ;  and  everybody  fell  flat  and  laid  on  his 
stomach  while  he  went  by.  I  forgot,  but  a  feller 
helped  me  to  remember.  He  was  one  that  had  a  rod 
and  run  in  front. 

There  was  churches,  but  they  don't  know  enough  to 
keep  Sunday;  they  keep  Friday  and  break  the  Sab 
bath.  You  have  to  take  off  your  shoes  when  you  go 
in.  There  was  crowds  of  men  and  boys  in  the  church, 
setting  in  groups  on  the  stone  floor  and  making  no  end 
of  noise  —  getting  their  lessons  by  heart,  Tom  said,  out 
of  the  Koran,  which  they  think  is  a  Bible,  and  people 
that  knows  better  knows  enough  to  not  let  on.  I  never 
see  such  a  big  church  in  my  life  before,  and  most  awful 
high,  it  was ;  it  made  you  dizzy  to  look  up ;  our 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  129 

village  church  at  home  ain't  a  circumstance  to  it;  if 
you  was  to  put  it  in  there,  people  would  think  it  was  a 
drygoods  box. 

What  I  wanted  to  see  was  a  dervish,  because  I  was 
interested  in  dervishes  on  accounts  of  the  one  that 
played  the  trick  on  the  camel-driver.  So  we  found  a 
lot  in  a  kind  of  a  church,  and  they  called  themselves 
Whirling  Dervishes;  and  they  did  whirl,  too.  I  never 
see  anything  like  it.  They  had  tall  sugar-loaf  hats  on, 
and  linen  petticoats;  and  they  spun  and  spun  and 
spun,  round  and  round  like  tops,  and  the  petticoats 
stood  out  on  a  slant,  and  it  was  the  prettiest  thing  I 
ever  see,  and  made  me  drunk  to  look  at  it.  They  was 
all  Moslems,  Tom  said,  and  when  I  asked  him  what  a 
Moslem  was,  he  said  it  was  a  person  that  wasn't  a 
Presbyterian.  So  there  is  plenty  of  them  in  Missouri, 
though  I  didn't  know  it  before. 

We  didn't  see  half  there  was  to  see  in  Cairo,  because 
Tom  was  in  such  a  sweat  to  hunt  out  places  that  was 
celebrated  in  history.  We  had  a  most  tiresome  time  to 
find  the  granary  where  Joseph  stored  up  the  grain 
before  the  famine,  and  when  we  found  it  it  warn't 
worth  much  to  look  at,  being  such  an  old  tumble-down 
wreck;  but  Tom  was  satisfied,  and  made  more  fuss  over 
it  than  I  would  make  if  I  stuck  a  nail  in  my  foot. 
How  he  ever  found  that  place  was  too  many  for  me. 
We  passed  as  much  as  forty  just  like  it  before  we  come 
to  it,  and  any  of  them  would  'a'  done  for  me,  but  none 
but  just  the  right  one  would  suit  him ;  I  never  see  any 
body  so  particular  as  Tom  Sawyer.  The  minute  he 
9«* 


130  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

struck  the  right  one  he  reconnized  it  as  easy  as  I  would 
reconnize  my  other  shirt  if  I  had  one,  but  how  he  done 
it  he  couldn't  any  more  tell  than  he  could  fly;  he  said 
so  himself. 

Then  we  hunted  a  long  time  for  the  house  where  the 
boy  lived  that  learned  the  cadi  how  to  try  the  case  of 
the  old  olwes  and  the  new  ones,  and  said  it  was  out  of 
the  Arabian  Nights,  and  he  would  tell  me  and  Jim 
about  it  when  he  got  time.  Well,  we  hunted  and 
hunted  till  I  was  ready  to  drop,  and  I  wanted  Tom  to 
give  it  up  and  come  next  day  and  git  somebody  that 
knowed  the  town  and  could  talk  Missourian  and  could 
go  straight  to  the  place;  but  no,  he  wanted  to  find  it 
himself,  and  nothing  else  would  answer.  So  on  we 
went.  Then  at  last  the  remarkablest  thing  happened  I 
ever  see.  The  house  was  gone  —  gone  hundreds  of 
years  ago  —  every  last  rag  of  it  gone  but  just  one  mud 
brick.  Now  a  person  wouldn't  ever  believe  that  a 
backwoods  Missouri  boy  that  hadn't  ever  been  in  that 
town  before  could  go  and  hunt  that  place  over  and  find 
that  brick,  but  Tom  Sawyer  done  it.  I  know  he  done 
it,  because  I  see  him  do  it.  I  was  right  by  his  very 
side  at  the  time,  and  see  him  see  the  brick  and  see  him 
reconnize  it.  Well,  I  says  to  myself,  how  does  he  do 
it?  Is  it  knowledge,  or  is  it  instink? 

Now  there's  the  facts,  just  as  they  happened :  let 
everybody  explain  it  their  own  way.  I've  ciphered 
over  it  a  good  deal,  and  it's  my  opinion  that  some  of  it 
is  knowledge  but  the  main  bulk  of  it  is  instink.  The 
reason  is  this :  Tom  put  the  brick  in  his  pocket  to  give 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  131 

to  a  museum  with  his  name  on  it  and  the  facts  when  he 
went  home,  and  I  slipped  it  out  and  put  another  brick 
considerable  like  it  in  its  place,  and  he  didn't  know  the 
difference  —  but  there  was  a  difference,  you  see.  I 
think  that  settles  it  —  it's  mostly  instink,  not  knowledge. 
Instink  tells  him  where  the  exart  place  is  for  the  brick  to 
be  in,  and  so  he  reconnizes  it  by  the  place  it's  in,  not 
by  the  look  of  the  brick.  If  it  was  knowledge,  not 
instink,  he  would  know  the  brick  again  by  the  look  of 
it  the  next  time  he  seen  it  —  which  he  didn't.  So  it 
shows  that  for  all  the  brag  you  hear  about  knowledge 
being  such  a  wonderful  thing,  instink  is  worth  forty  of 
it  for  real  unerringness.  Jim  says  the  same. 

When  we  got  back  Jim  dropped  down  and  took  us 
in,  and  there  was  a  young  man  there  with  a  red  skull 
cap  and  tassel  on  and  a  beautiful  silk  jacket  and  baggy 
trousers  with  a  shawl  around  his  waist  and  pistols  in  it 
that  could  talk  English  and  wanted  to  hire  to  us  as 
guide  and  take  us  to  Mecca  and  Medina  and  Central 
Africa  and  everywheres  for  a  half  a  dollar  a  day  and  his 
keep,  and  we  hired  him  and  left,  and  piled  on  the 
power,  and  by  the  time  we  was  through  dinner  we  was 
over  the  place  where  the  Israelites  crossed  the  Red  Sea 
when  Pharaoh  tried  to  overtake  them  and  was  caught 
by  the  waters.  We  stopped,  then,  and  had  a  good 
look  at  the  place,  and  it  done  Jim  good  to  see  it.  He 
said  he  could  see  it  all,  now,  just  the  way  it  happened ; 
he  could  see  the  Israelites  walking  along  between  the 
walls  of  water,  and  the  Egyptians  coming,  from  away 
off  yonder,  hurrying  all  they  could,  and  see  them  start 


132  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

in  as  the  Israelites  went  out,  and  then  when  they  was 
all  in,  see  the  walls  tumble  together  and  drown  the  last 
man  of  them.  Then  we  piled  on  the  power  again  and 
rushed  away  and  huvvered  over  Mount  Sinai,  and  saw 
the  place  where  Moses  broke  the  tables  of  stone,  and 
where  the  children  of  Israel  camped  in  the  plain  and 
worshiped  the  golden  calf,  and  it  was  all  just  as 
interesting  as  could  be,  and  the  guide  knowed  every 
place  as  well  as  I  knowed  the  village  at  home. 

But  we  had  an  accident,  now,  and  it  fetched  all  the 
plans  to  a  standstill.  Tom's  old  ornery  corn-cob  pipe 
had  got  so  old  and  swelled  and  warped  that  she  couldn't 
hold  together  any  longer,  notwithstanding  the  strings 
and  bandages,  but  caved  in  and  went  to  pieces.  Tom 
he  didn't  know  what  to  do.  The  professor's  pipe 
wouldn't  answer;  it  warn't  anything  but  a  mershum, 
and  a  person  that's  got  used  to  a  cob  pipe  knows  it 
lays  a  long  ways  over  all  the  other  pipes  in  this  world, 
and  you  can't  git  him  to  smoke  any  other.  He 
wouldn't  take  mine,  I  couldn't  persuade  him.  So 
there  he  was. 

He  thought  it  over,  and  said  we  must  scour  around 
and  see  if  we  could  roust  out  one  in  Egypt  or  Arabia  or 
around  in  some  of  these  countries,  but  the  guide  said  no, 
it  warn't  no  use,  they  didn't  have  them.  So  Tom  was 
pretty  glum  for  a  little  while,  then  he  chirked  up  and  said 
he'd  got  the  idea  and  knowed  what  to  do.  He  says : 

"  I've  got  another  corn-cob  pipe,  and  it's  a  prime 
one,  too,  and  nearly  new.  It's  laying  on  the  rafter 
that's  right  over  the  kitchen  stove  at  home  in  the 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  133 

village.  Jim,  you  and  the  guide  will  go  and  get  it, 
and  me  and  Huck  will  camp  here  on  Mount  Sinai  till 
you  come  back." 

"But,  Mars  Tom,  we  couldn't  ever  find  de  village. 
I  could  find  de  pipe,  'case  I  knows  de  kitchen,  but  my 
Ian',  we  can't  ever  find  de  village,  nur  Sent  Louis,  nur 
none  o'  dem  places.  We  don't  know  de  way,  Mars 
Tom." 

That  was  a  fact,  and  it  stumped  Tom  for  a  minute. 
Then  he  said : 

11  Looky  here,  it  can  be  done,  sure;  and  I'll  tell  you 
how.  You  set  your  compass  and  sail  west  as  straight 
as  a  dart,  till  you  find  the  United  States.  It  ain't  any 
trouble,  because  it's  the  first  land  you'll  strike  the  other 
side  of  the  Atlantic.  If  it's  daytime  when  you  strike  it, 
bulge  right  on,  straight  west  from  the  upper  part  of  the 
Florida  coast,  and  in  an  hour  and  three  quarters  you'll 
hit  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi  —  at  the  speed  that 
I'm  going  to  send  you.  You'll  be  so  high  up  in  the 
air  that  the  earth  will  be  curved  considerable  —  sorter 
like  a  washbowl  turned  upside  down  —  and  you'll  see  a 
raft  of  rivers  crawling  around  every  which  way,  long 
before  you  get  there,  and  you  can  pick  out  the  Miss 
issippi  without  any  trouble.  Then  you  can  follow  the 
river  north  nearly,  an  hour  and  three  quarters,  till  you 
see  the  Ohio  come  in;  then  you  want  to  look  sharp, 
because  you're  getting  near.  Away  up  to  your  left 
you'll  see  another  thread  coming  in  —  that's  the 
Missouri  and  is  a  little  above  St.  Louis.  You'll  come 
down  low  then,  so  as  you  can  examine  the  villages  as 


134  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

you  spin  along.  You'll  pass  about  twenty-five  in  the 
next  fifteen  minutes,  and  you'll  recognize  ours  when 
you  see  it  —  and  if  you  don't,  you  can  yell  down  and 
ask." 

"  Ef  it's  dat  easy,  Mars  Tom,  I  reckon  we  kin  do 
it  —  yassir,  I  knows  we  kin." 

The  guide  was  sure  of  it,  too,  and  thought  that  he 
could  learn  to  stand  his  watch  in  a  little  while. 

"Jim  can  learn  you  the  whole  thing  in  a  half  an 
hour,"  Tom  said.  "  This  balloon's  as  easy  to  manage 
as  a  canoe." 

Tom  got  out  the  chart  and  marked  out  the  course 
and  measured  it,  and  says : 

"To  go  back  west  is  the  shortest  way,  you  see. 
It's  only  about  seven  thousand  miles.  If  you  went 
east,  and  so  on  around,  it's  over  twice  as  far."  Then 
he  says  to  the  guide,  "  I  want  you  both  to  watch  the 
tell-tale  all  through  the  watches,  and  whenever  it  don't 
mark  three  hundred  miles  an  hour,  you  go  higher  or 
drop  lower  till  you  find  a  storm-current  that's  going 
your  way.  There's  a  hundred  miles  an  hour  in  this 
old  thing  without  any  wind  to  help.  There's  two- 
hundred-mile  gales  to  be  found,  any  time  you  want  to 
hunt  for  them." 

"We'll  hunt  for  them,  sir." 

"  See  that  you  do.  Sometimes  you  may  have  to 
go  up  a  couple  of  miles,  and  it'll  be  p'ison  cold,  but 
most  of  the  time  you'll  find  your  storm  a  good  deal 
lower.  If  you  can  only  strike  a  cyclone  —  that's  the 
ticket  for  you!  You'll  see  by  the  professor's  books 


.  fry  v8^ 

Vt^r*^? 

s&  ffiu 


2&~r 


V 


Tom  Sawyer  Abroad  135 

that  they  travel  west  in  these  latitudes ;  and  they  travel 
low,  too." 

Then  he  ciphered  on  the  time,  and  says  — 

"Seven  thousand  miles,  three  hundred  miles  an 
hour  —  you  can  make  the  trip  in  a  day  —  twenty-four 
hours.  This  is  Thursday;  you'll  be  back  here  Sat 
urday  afternoon.  Come,  now,  hustle  out  some  blankets 
and  food  and  books  and  things  for  me  and  Huck,  and 
you  can  start  right  along.  There  ain't  no  occasion  to 
fool  around  —  I  want  a  smoke,  and  the  quicker  you 
fetch  that  pipe  the  better." 

All  hands  jumped  for  the  things,  and  in  eight  min 
utes  our  things  was  out  and  the  balloon  was  ready  for 
America.  So  we  shook  hands  good-bye,  and  Tom 
gave  his  last  orders : 

"  It's  10  minutes  to  2  P.M.  now,  Mount  Sinai  time. 
In  24  hours  you'll  be  home,  and  it  '11  be  6  to-mor 
row  morning,  village  time.  When  you  strike  the 
village,  land  a  little  back  of  the  top  of  the  hill,  in  the 
woods,  out  of  sight;  then  you  rush  down,  Jim,  and 
shove  these  letters  in  the  post-office,  and  if  you  see 
anybody  stirring,  pull  your  slouch  down  over  your  face 
so  they  won't  know  you.  Then  you  go  and  slip  in  the 
back  way  to  the  kitchen  and  git  the  pipe,  and  lay  this 
piece  of  paper  on  the  kitchen  table,  and  put  something 
on  it  to  hold  it,  and  then  slide  out  and  git  away,  and 
don't  let  Aunt  Polly  catch  a  sight  of  you,  nor  nobody 
else.  Then  you  jump  for  the  balloon  and  shove  for 
Mount  Sinai  three  hundred  miles  an  hour.  You  won't 
have  lost  more  than  an  hour.  You'll  start  back  at  7  or 


136  Tom  Sawyer  Abroad 

8  A.M.,  village  time,  and  be  here  in  24  hours,  arriving 
at  2  or  3  P.M.,  Mount  Sinai  time." 

Tom  he  read  the  piece   of  paper  to    us.     He  had 
wrote  on  it  : 


" 


THURSDAY  AFTERNOON.  Tom  Sawyer  the  Erro- 
nort  sends  his  love  to  Aunt  Polly  from  Mount  Sinai 
where  the  Ark  was,  and  so  does  Huck  Finn,  and  she 
will  get  it  to-morrow  morning  half  -past  six* 

"  TOM  SAWYER  THE  ERRONORT." 

'That'll    make    her  eyes   bulge   out  and   the   tears 
come,"  he  says.     Then  he  says: 

1  '  Stand  by  !     One  —  two  —  three  —  away  you  go  !  " 

And  away  she  did  go  !  Why,  she  seemed  to  whiz 
out  of  sight  in  a  second. 

Then  we  found  a  most  comfortable  cave  that  looked 
out  over  the  whole  big  plain,  and  there  we  camped  to 
wait  for  the  pipe. 

The  balloon  come  back  all  right,  and  brung  the  pipe  ; 
but  Aunt  Polly  had  catched  Jim  when  he  was  getting 
it,  and  anybody  can  guess  what  happened  :  she  sent 
for  Tom.  So  Jim  he  says  : 

"  Mars  Tom,  she's  out  on  de  porch  wid  her  eye  sot  on 
de  sky  a-layin'  for  you,  en  she  say  she  ain't  gwyne  to 
budge  from  dah  tell  she  gits  hold  of  you.  Dey's  gwyne 
to  be  trouble,  Mars  Tom,  'deed  dey  is." 

So  then  we  shoved  for  home,  and  not  feeling  very 
gay,  neither. 

*This  misplacing  of  the  Ark  is  probably  Huck's  error,  not  Tom's. 
—  M.T. 


O  <  rue's  y\  C 


. 
' 
vu-V 

^-  <*    - 


TOM   SAWYER,  DETECTIVE* 


CHAPTER   I. 

AN  INVITATION  FOR  TOM  AND  HUCK 

WELL,  it  was  the  next  spring  after  me  and  Tom 
Sawyer  set  our  old  nigger  Jim  free,  the  time  he 
was  chained  up  for  a  runaway  slave  down  there  on 
Tom's  uncle  Silas's  farm  in  Arkansaw.  The  frost  was 
working  out  of  the  ground,  and  out  of  the  air,  too,  and 
it  was  getting  closer  and  closer  onto  barefoot  time  every 
day;  and  next  it  would  be  marble  time,  and  next 
mumbletypeg,  and  next  tops  and  hoops,  and  next 
kites,  and  then  right  away  it  would  be  summer  and  go 
ing  in  a-swimming.  It  just  makes  a  boy  homesick  to 
look  ahead  like  that  and  see  how  far  off  summer  is. 
Yes,  and  it  sets  him  to  sighing  and  saddening  around, 
and  there's  something  the  matter  with  him,  he  don't 
know  what.  But  anyway,  he  gets  out  by  himself  and 

*  Strange  as  the  incidents  of  this  story  are,  they  are  not  inventions,  but 
facts  —  even  to  the  public  confession  of  the  accused.  I  take  them  from  an 
old-time  Swedish  criminal  trial,  change  the  actors,  and  transfer  the  scenes 
to  America.  I  have  added  some  details,  but  only  a  couple  of  them  are 
important  ones.  —  M.  T. 

(137) 
Pv*4  if     " 


138  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

mopes  and  thinks ;  and  mostly  he  hunts  for  a  lone» 
some  place  high  up  on  the  hill  in  the  edge  of  the  woods, 
and  sets  there  and  looks  away  off  on  the  big  Mississippi 
down  there  a-reaching  miles  and  miles  around  the  points 
where  the  timber  looks  smoky  and  dim  it's  so  far  off  and 
still,  and  everything's  so  solemn  it  seems  like  everybody 
you've  loved  is  dead  and  gone,  and  you  'most  wish  you 
was  dead  and  gone  too,  and  done  with  it  all. 

Don't  you  know  what  that  is?  It's  spring  fever. 
That  is  what  the  name  of  it  is.  And  when  you've  got 
it,  you  want — oh,  you  don't  quite  know  what  it  is  you 
do  want,  but  it  just  fairly  makes  your  heart  ache,  you 
want  it  so  !  It  seems  to  you  that  mainly  what  you  want 
is  to  get  away ;  get  away  from  the  same  old  tedious 
things  you're  so  used  to  seeing  and  so  tired  of,  and  see 
something  new.  That  is  the  idea ;  you  want  to  go  and 
be  a  wanderer ;  you  want  to  go  wandering  far  away  to 
strange  countries  where  everything  is  mysterious  and 
wonderful  and  romantic.  And  if  you  can't,  do  that, 
you'll  put  up  with  considerable  less;  you'll  go  any 
where  you  can  go,  just  so  as  to  get  away,  and  be  thank 
ful  of  the  chance,  too. 

Well,  me  and  Tom  Sawyer  had  the  spring  fever,  and 
had  it  bad,  too;  but  it  warn't  any  use  to  think  about 
Tom  trying  to  get  away,  because,  as  he  said,  his  Aunt 
Polly  wouldn't  let  him  quit  school  and  go  traipsing  off 
somers  wasting  time;  so  we  was  pretty  blue.  We  was 
setting  on  the  front  steps  one  day  about  sundown  talk 
ing  this  way,  when  out  comes  his  aunt  Polly  with  a 
letter  in  her  hand  and  says : 


I    RECKON    I    GOT    TO    BE    EXCUSED" 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  139 

"  Tom,  I  reckon  you've  got  to  pack  up  and  go  down 
to  Arkansaw  —  your  aunt  Sally  wants  you." 

I  'most  jumped  out  of  my  skin  for  joy.  I  reckoned 
Tom  would  fly  at  his  aunt  and  hug  her  head  off;  but  if 
you  believe  me  he  set  there  like  a  rock,  and  never  said 
a  word.  It  made  me  fit  to  cry  to  see  him  act  so  foolish, 
with  such  a  noble  chance  as  this  opening  up.  Why, 
we  might  lose  it  if  he  didn't  speak  up  and  show  he  was 
thankful  and  grateful.  But  he  set  there  and  studied 
and  studied  till  I  was  that  distressed  I  didn't  know 
what  to  do;  then  he  says,  very  ca'm,  and  I  could  a 
shot  him  for  it : 

"Well,"  he  says,  "I'm  right  down  sorry,  Aunt 
Polly,  but  I  reckon  I  got  to  be  excused  —  for  the 
present." 

His  aunt  Polly  was  knocked  so  stupid  and  so  mad  at 
the  cold  impudence  of  it  that  she  couldn't  say  a  word 
for  as  much  as  a  half  a  minute,  and  this  gave  me  a 
chance  to  nudge  Tom  and  whisper : 

" Ain't  you  got  any  sense?  Sp'iling  such  a  noble 
chance  as  this  and  throwing  it  away?" 

But  he  warn't  disturbed.     He  mumbled  back: 

"  Huck  Finn,  do  you  want  me  to  let  her  see  how  bad 
I  want  to  go?  Why,  she'd  begin  to  doubt,  right 
away,  and  imagine  a  lot  of  sicknesses  and  dangers  and 
objections,  and  first  you  know  she'd  take  it  all  back. 
You  lemme  alone;  I  reckon  I  know  how  to  work  her." 

Now  I  never  would  'a'  thought  of  that.  But  he  was 
right.  Tom  Sawyer  was  always  right  —  the  levelest 
head  I  ever  see,  and  always  at  himself  and  ready  for 


140  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

anything  you  might  spring  on  him.  By  this  time  his 
aunt  Polly  was  all  straight  again,  and  she  let  fly.  She 
says: 

"You'll  be  excused!  You  will!  Well,  I  never 
heard  the  like  of  it  in  all  my  days !  The  idea  of  you 
talking  like  that  to  me!  Now  take  yourself  off  and 
pack  your  traps ;  and  if  I  hear  another  word  out  of 
you  about  what  you'll  be  excused  from  and  what  you 
won't,  I  lay /'// excuse  you  —  with  a  hickory!" 

She  hit  his  head  a  thump  with  her  thimble  as  we 
dodged  by,  and  he  let  on  to  be  whimpering  as  we 
struck  for  the  stairs.  Up  in  his  room  he  hugged  me, 
he  was  so  out  of  his  head  for  gladness  because  he  was 
going  traveling.  And  he  says  : 

"  Before  we  get  away  she'll  wish  she  hadn't  let  me 
go,  but  she  won't  know  any  way  to  get  around  it  now. 
After  what  she's  said,  her  pride  won't  let  her  take  it 
back." 

Tom  was  packed  in  ten  minutes,  all  except  what  his 
aunt  and  Mary  would  finish  up  for  him ;  then  we  waited 
ten  more  for  her  to  get  cooled  down  and  sweet  and 
gentle  again ;  for  Tom  said  it  took  her  ten  minutes  to 
unruffle  in  times  when  half  of  her  feathers  was  up,  but 
twenty  when  they  was  all  up,  and  this  was  one  of  the 
times  when  they  was  all  up.  Then  we  went  down, 
being  in  a  sweat  to  know  what  the  letter  said. 

She  was  setting  there  in  a  brown  study,  with  it  laying 
in  her  lap.  We  set  down,  and  she  says : 

"They're  in  considerable  trouble  down  there,  and 
they  think  you  and  Huck  '11  be  a  kind  of  diversion  for 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  141 

them —  '  comfort/  they  say.  Much  of  that  they'll  get 
out  of  you  and  Huck  Finn,  I  reckon.  There's  a  neigh 
bor  named  Brace  Dunlap  that's  been  wanting  to  marry 
their  Benny  for  three  months,  and  at  last  they  told  him 
pint  blank  and  once  for  all,  he  couldn't ;  so  he  has  soured 
on  them,  and  they're  worried  about  it.  I  reckon  he's 
somebody  they  think  they  better  be  on  the  good  side 
of,  for  they've  tried  to  please  him  by  hiring  his  no- 
account  brother  to  help  on  the  farm  when  they  can't 
hardly  afford  it,  and  don't  want  him  around  anyhow. 
Who  are  the  Dunlaps?" 

"They  live  about  a  mile  from  Uncle  Silas's  place, 
Aunt  Polly  —  all  the  farmers  live  about  a  mile  apart 
down  there  —  and  Brace  Dunlap  is  a  long  sight  richer 
than  any  of  the  others,  and  owns  a  whole  grist  of  nig 
gers.  He's  a  widower,  thirty-six  years  old,  without 
any  children,  and  is  proud  of  his  money  and  overbear 
ing,  and  everybody  is  a  little  afraid  of  him.  I  judge  he 
thought  he  could  have  any  girl  he  wanted,  just  for  the 
asking,  and  it  must  have  set  him  back  a  good  deal  when 
he  found  he  couldn't  get  Benny.  Why,  Benny's  only 
half  as  old  as  he  is,  and  just  as  sweet  and  lovely  as  — 
well,  you've  seen  her.  Poor  old  Uncle  Silas  —  why, 
it's  pitiful,  him  trying  to  curry  favor  that  way —  so  hard 
pushed  and  poor,  and  yet  hiring  that  useless  Jubiter 
Dunlap  to  please  his  ornery  brother." 

44  What  a  name  —  Jubiter!     Where'd  he  get  it?" 

"  It's  only  just  a  nickname.  I  reckon  they've  forgot 
his  real  name  long  before  this.  He's  twenty-seven, 
now,  and  has  had  it  ever  since  the  first  time  he  ever 


142  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

went  in  swimming.  The  school  teacher  seen  a  round 
brown  mole  the  size  of  a  dime  on  his  left  leg  above  his 
knee,  and  four  little  bits  of  moles  around  it,  when  he 
was  naked,  and  he  said  it  minded  him  of  Jubiter  and 
his  moons ;  and  the  children  thought  it  was  funny,  and 
so  they  got  to  calling  him  Jubiter,  and  he's  Jubiter  yet. 
He's  tall,  and  lazy,  and  sly,  and  sneaky,  and  ruther 
cowardly,  too,  but  kind  of  good-natured,  and  wears 
long  brown  hair  and  no  beard,  and  hasn't  got  a  cent, 
and  Brace  boards  him  for  nothing,  and  gives  him  his  old 
clothes  to  wear,  and  despises  him.  Jubiter  is  a  twin." 

14  What's  t'other  twin  like?" 

"Just  exactly  like  Jubiter  —  so  they  say;  used  to 
was,  anyway,  but  he  hain't  been  seen  for  seven  years. 
He  got  to  robbing  when  he  was  nineteen  or  twenty, 
and  they  jailed  him ;  but  he  broke  jail  and  got  away  — 
up  North  here,  somers.  They  used  to  hear  about  him 
robbing  and  burglaring  now  and  then,  but  that  was 
years  ago.  He's  dead,  now.  At  least  that's  what 
they  say.  They  don't  hear  about  him  any  more." 

"  What  was  his  name?" 

"Jake." 

There  wasn't  anything  more  said  for  a  considerable 
while  ;  the  old  lady  was  thinking.  At  last  she  says : 

"  The  thing  that  is  mostly  worrying  your  aunt  Sally 
is  the  tempers  that  that  man  Jubiter  gets  your  uncle 
into." 

Tom  was  astonished,  and  so  was  I.     Tom  says: 

"Tempers?  Uncle  Silas?  Land,  you  must  be  jok 
ing!  I  didn't  know  he  had  any  temper." 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  143 

"Works  him  up  into  perfect  rages,  your  aunt  Sally 
says;  says  he  acts  as  if  he  would  really  hit  the  man, 
sometimes." 

"Aunt  Polly,  it  beats  anything  I  ever  heard  of. 
Why,  he's  just  as  gentle  as  mush." 

"Well,  she's  worried,  anyway.  Says  your  uncle 
Silas  is  like  a  changed  man,  on  account  of  all  this 
quarreling.  And  the  neighbors  talk  about  it,  and  lay 
all  the  blame  on  your  uncle,  of  course,  because  he's  a 
preacher  and  hain't  got  any  business  to  quarrel.  Your 
aunt  Sally  says  he  hates  to  go  into  the  pulpit  he's  so 
ashamed ;  and  the  people  have  begun  to  cool  toward 
him,  and  he  ain't  as  popular  now  as  he  used  to  was." 

"  Well,  ain't  it  strange?  Why,  Aunt  Polly,  he  was 
always  so  good  and  kind  and  moony  and  absent-minded 
and  chuckle-headed  and  lovable  —  why,  he  was  just  an 
angel !  What  can  be  the  matter  of  him,  do  you 
reckon?" 


CHAPTER  II. 

JAKE  DUNLAP 

WE  had  powerful  good  luck;  because  we  got  a 
chance  in  a  stern-wheeler  from  away  North  which 
was  bound  for  one  of  them  bayous  or  one-horse  rivers 
away  down  Louisiana  way,  and  so  we  could  go  all  the 
way  down  the  Upper  Mississippi  and  all  the  way  down 
the  Lower  Mississippi  to  that  farm  in  Arkansaw  with 
out  having  to  change  steamboats  at  St.  Louis ;  not  so 
very  much  short  of  a  thousand  miles  at  one  pull. 

A  pretty  lonesome  boat;  there  warn't  but  few 
passengers,  and  all  old  folks,  that  set  around,  wide 
apart,  dozing,  and  was  very  quiet.  We  was  four  days 
getting  out  of  the  "  upper  river,"  because  we  got 
aground  so  much.  But  it  warn't  dull  —  couldn't  be 
for  boys  that  was  traveling,  of  course. 

From  the  very  start  me  and  Tom  allowed  that  there 
was  somebody  sick  in  the  stateroom  next  to  ourn,  be 
cause  the  meals  was  always  toted  in  there  by  the  wait 
ers.  By  and  by  we  asked  about  it  —  Tom  did  —  and 
the  waiter  said  it  was  a  man,  but  he  didn't  look  sick. 

"Well,  buttfzV/he  sick?" 

"  I  don't  know;  maybe  he  is,  but  'pears  to  me  he's 
just  letting  on." 

(144) 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  145 

"  What  makes  you  think  that?" 

"  Because  if  he  was  sick  he  would  pull  his  clothes  off 
some  time  or  other  —  don't  you  reckon  he  would? 
Well,  this  one  don't.  At  least  he  don't  ever  pull  off 
his  boots,  anyway." 

"The  mischief  he  don't!  Not  even  when  he  goes 
to  bed?" 

"No." 

It  was  always  nuts  for  Tom  Sawyer  —  a  mystery  was. 
If  you'd  lay  out  a  mystery  and  a  pie  before  me  and 
him,  you  wouldn't  have  to  say  take  your  choice;  it 
was  a  thing  that  would  regulate  itself.  Because  in  my 
nature  I  have  always  run  to  pie,  whilst  in  his  nature  he 
has  always  run  to  mystery.  People  are  made  different. 
And  it  is  the  best  way.  Tom  says  to  the  waiter : 

"  What's  the  man's  name?" 

"Phillips." 

II  Where 'd  he  come  aboard  ?" 

"I  think  he  got  aboard  at  Elexandria,  up  on  the 
Iowa  line." 

"  What  do  you  reckon  he's  a-playing?" 

II 1  hain't  any  notion  —  I  never  thought  of  it." 

I  says  to  myself,  here's  another  one  that  runs  to  pie. 

"Anything  peculiar  about  him? — the  way  he  acts  or 
talks?" 

"No — nothing,  except  he  seems  so  scary,  and 
keeps  his  doors  locked  night  and  day  both,  and  when 
you  knock  he  won't  let  you  in  till  he  opens  the  door  a 
crack  and  sees  who  it  is." 

"  By  jimminy,  it's  hit'  resting !  I'd  like  to  get  a 
10** 


146  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

look  at  him.  Say  —  the  next  time  you're  going  in 
there,  don't  you  reckon  you  could  spread  the  door 
and—" 

"  No,  indeedy !  He's  always  behind  it.  He  would 
block  that  game." 

Tom  studied  over  it,  and  then  he  says : 

"  Looky  here.  You  lend  me  your  apern  and  let  me 
take  him  his  breakfast  in  the  morning.  I'll  give  you  a 
quarter." 

The  boy  was  plenty  willing  enough,  if  the  head 
steward  wouldn't  mind.  Tom  says  that's  all  right,  he 
reckoned  he  could  fix  it  with  the  head  steward ;  and  he 
done  it.  He  fixed  it  so  as  we  could  both  go  in  with 
aperns  on  and  toting  vittles. 

He  didn't  sleep  much,  he  was  in  such  a  sweat  to  get 
in  there  and  find  out  the  mystery  about  Phillips ;  and 
moreover  he  done  a  lot  of  guessing  about  it  all  night, 
which  warn't  no  use,  for  if  you  are  going  to  find  out 
the  facts  of  a  thing,  what's  the  sense  in  guessing  out 
what  ain't  the  facts  and  wasting  ammunition?  I 
didn't  lose  no  sleep.  I  wouldn't  give  a  dern  to  know 
what's  the  matter  of  Phillips,  I  says  to  myself. 

Well,  in  the  morning  we  put  on  the  aperns  and  got  a 
couple  of  trays  of  truck,  and  Tom '  he  knocked  on  the 
door.  The  man  opened  it  a  crack,  and  then  he  let  us  in 
and  shut  it  quick.  By  Jackson,  when  we  got  a  sight  of 
him,  we  'most  dropped  the  trays !  and  Tom  says: 

"Why,  Jubiter  Dunlap,  where'd  you  come  from?" 

Well,  the  man  was  astonished,  of  course;  and  first 
off  he  looked  like  he  didn't  know  whether  to  be  scared, 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  147 

or  glad,  or  both,  or  which,  but  finally  he  settled  down 
to  being  glad ;  and  then  his  color  come  back,  though  at 
first  his  face  had  turned  pretty  white.  So  we  got  to 
talking  together  while  he  et  his  breakfast.  And  he 
says: 

"But  I  aint  Jubiter  Dunlap.  I'd  just  as  soon  tell 
you  who  I  am,  though,  if  you'll  swear  to  keep  mum, 
for  I  ain't  no  Phillips,  either." 

Tom  says : 

"We'll  keep  mum,  but  there  ain't  any  need  to  tell 
who  you  are  if  you  ain't  Jubiter  Dunlap." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  if  you  ain't  him  you're  t'other  twin,  Jake. 
You're  the  spit'n  image  of  Jubiter." 

"Well,  I  am  Jake.  But  looky  here,  how  do  you 
come  to  know  us  Dunlaps?" 

Tom  told  about  the  adventures  we'd  had  down  there 
at  his  uncle  Silas's  last  summer, and  when  he  see  that 
there  warn't  anything  about  his  folks  —  or  him  either, 
for  that  matter  —  that  we  didn't  know,  he  opened  out 
and  talked  perfectly  free  and  candid.  He  never  made 
any  bones  about  his  own  case;  said  he'd  been  a  hard 
lot,  was  a  hard  lot  yet,  and  reckoned  he'd  be  a  hard  lot 
plumb  to  the  end.  He  said  of  course  it  was  a  danger 
ous  life,  and  — 

He  give  a  kind  of  gasp,  and  set  his  head  like  a  person 
that's  listening.  We  didn't  say  anything,  and  so  it 
was  very  still  for  a  second  or  so,  and  there  warn't  no 
sounds  but  the  screaking  of  the  woodwork  and  the  chug- 
chugging  of  the  machinery  down  below 


148  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

Then  we  got  him  comfortable  again,  telling  him  about 
his  people,  and  how  Brace's  wife  had  been  dead  three 
years,  and  Brace  wanted  to  marry  Benny  and  she  shook 
him,  and  Jubiter  was  working  for  Uncle  Silas,  and  him 
and  Uncle  Silas  quarreling  all  the  time  —  and  then  he 
let  go  and  laughed. 

"Land!"  he  says,  "it's  like  old  times  to  hear  all 
this  tittle-tattle,  and  does  me  good.  It's  been  seven 
years  and  more  since  I  heard  any.  How  do  they  talk 
about  me  these  days?" 

"Who?" 

"  The  farmers  —  and  the  family." 

"Why,  they  don't  talk  about  you  at  all  —  at  least 
only  just  a  mention,  once  in  a  long  time." 

"  The  nation  !"   he  says,  surprised  ;    "  why  is  that?" 

"  Because  they  think  you  are  dead  long  ago." 

"No!  Are  you  speaking  true? — honor  bright, 
now."  He  jumped  up,  excited. 

"  Honor  bright.  There  ain't  anybody  thinks  you  are 
alive." 

"Then  I'm  saved,  I'm  saved,  sure!  I'll  go  home. 
They'll  hide  me  and  save  my  life.  You  keep  mum. 
Swear  you'll  keep  mum  —  swear  you'll  never,  never  tell 
on  me.  Oh,  boys,  be  good  to  a  poor  devil  that's  being 
hunted  day  and  night,  and  dasn't  show  his  face  !  I've 
never  done  you  any  harm ;  I'll  never  do  you  any,  as 
God  is  in  the  heavens;  swear  you'll  be  good  to  me 
and  help  me  save  my  life." 

We'd  a  swore  it  if  he'd  been  a  dog;  and  so  we  done 
it.  Well,  he  couldn't  love  us  enough  for  it  or  be  grate- 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  149 

ful  enough,  poor  cuss;  it  was  all  he  could  do  to  keep 
from  hugging  us. 

We  talked  along,  and  he  got  out  a  little  hand-bag 
and  begun  to  open  it,  and  told  us  to  turn  our  backs. 
We  done  it,  and  when  he  told  us  to  turn  again  he  was 
perfectly  different  to  what  he  was  before.  He  had  on 
blue  goggles  and  the  naturalest-looking  long  brown 
whiskers  and  mustashes  you  ever  see.  His  own 
mother  wouldn't  'a'  knowed  him.  He  asked  us  if  he 
looked  like  his  brother  Jubiter,  now. 

"  No,"  Tom  said;  "  there  ain't  anything  left  that's 
like  him  except  the  long  hair." 

"All  right,  I'll  get  that  cropped  close  to  my  head  be 
fore  I  get  there;  then  him  and  Brace  will  keep  my 
secret,  and  I'll  live  with  them  as  being  a  stranger,  and 
the  neighbors  won't  ever  guess  me  out.  What  do  you 
think?" 

Tom  he  studied  awhile,  then  he  says : 

"  Well,  of  course  me  and  Huck  are  going  to  keep 
mum  there,  but  if  you  don't  keep  mum  yourself  there's 
going  to  be  a  little  bit  of  a  risk  —  it  ain't  much,  maybe, 
but  it's  a  little.  I  mean,  if  you  talk,  won't  people 
notice  that  your  voice  is  just  like  Jubiter' s;  and 
mightn't  it  make  them  think  of  the  twin  they  reckoned 
was  dead,  but  maybe  after  all  was  hid  all  this  time 
under  another  name?" 

"By  George,"  he  says,  "you're  a  sharp  one! 
You're  perfectly  right.  I've  got  to  play  deef  and 
dumb  when  there's  a  neighbor  around.  If  I'd  a  struck 
for  home  and  forgot  that  little  detail —  However,  I 


150  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

wasn't  striking  for  home.  I  was  breaking  for  any 
place  where  I  could  get  away  from  these  fellows  that 
are  after  me ;  then  I  was  going  to  put  on  this  disguise 
and  get  some  different  clothes,  and — " 

He  jumped  for  the  outside  door  and  laid  his  ear 
against  it  and  listened,  pale  and  kind  of  panting. 
Presently  he  whispers : 

"  Sounded  like  cocking  a  gun !  Lord,  what  a  life  to 
lead!" 

Then  he  sunk  down  in  a  chair  all  limp  and  sick  like, 
and  wiped  the  sweat  off  of  his  face. 


CHAPTER    III. 

A  DIAMOND  ROBBERY 

rROM  that  time  out,  we  was  with  him  'most  all  the 
time,  and  one  or  t'other  of  us  slept  in  his  upper 
berth.  He  said  he  had  been  so  lonesome,  and  it  was 
such  a  comfort  to  him  to  have  company,  and  somebody 
to  talk  to  in  his  troubles.  We  was  in  a  sweat  to  find 
out  what  his  secret  was,  but  Tom  said  the  best  way  was 
not  to  seem  anxious,  then  likely  he  would  drop  into  it 
himself  in  one  of  his  talks,  but  if  we  got  to  asking 
questions  he  would  get  suspicious  and  shet  up  his  shell. 
It  turned  out  just  so.  It  warn't  no  trouble  to  see  that 
he  wanted  to  talk  about  it,  but  always  along  at  first  he 
would  scare  away  from  it  when  he  got  on  the  very  edge 
of  it,  and  go  to  talking  about  something  else.  The 
way  it  come  about  was  this:  He  got  to  asking  us, 
kind  of  indifferent  like,  about  the  passengers  down  on 
deck.  We  told  him  about  them.  But  he  warn't  satis 
fied ;  we  warn't  particular  enough.  He  told  us  to  de 
scribe  them  better.  Tom  done  it.  At  last,  when  Tom 
was  describing  one  of  the  roughest  and  raggedest  ones, 
he  gave  a  shiver  and  a  gasp  and  says : 

"Oh,  lordy,   that's  one  of  them!     They're  aboard 

(151) 


152  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

sure  —  I  just  knowed  it.  I  sort  of  hoped  I  had  got 
away,  but  I  never  believed  it.  Go  on." 

Presently  when  Tom  was  describing  another  mangy, 
rough  deck  passenger,  he  give  that  shiver  again  and 
says: 

"That's  him!— that's  the  other  one.  If  it  would 
only  come  a  good  black  stormy  night  and  I  could  get 
ashore.  You  see,  they've  got  spies  on  me.  They've 
got  a  right  to  come  up  and  buy  drinks  at  the  bar 
yonder  forrard,  and  they  take  that  chance  to  bribe 
somebody  to  keep  watch  on  me  —  porter  or  boots  or 
somebody.  If  I  was  to  slip  ashore  without  anybody 
seeing  me,  they  would  know  it  inside  of  an  hour." 

So  then  he  got  to  wandering  along,  and  pretty  soon, 
sure  enough,  he  was  telling!  He  was  poking  along 
through  his  ups  and  downs,  and  when  he  come  to  that 
place  he  went  right  along.  He  says : 

' '  It  was  a  confidence  game.  We  played  it  on  a  julery- 
shop  in  St.  Louis.  What  we  was  after  was  a  couple  of 
noble  big  di'monds  as  big  as  hazel-nuts,  which  every 
body  was  running  to  see.  We  was  dressed  up  fine,  and 
we  played  it  on  them  in  broad  daylight.  We  ordered 
the  di'monds  sent  to  the  hotel  for  us  to  see  if  we 
wanted  to  buy,  and  when  we  was  examining  them  we 
had  paste  counterfeits  all  ready,  and  them  was  the  things 
that  went  back  to  the  shop  when  we  said  the  water 
wasn't  quite  fine  enough  for  twelve  thousand  dollars." 

1 '  Twelve  —  thousand  —  dollars  ! ' '  Tom  says.  ' '  Was 
they  really  worth  all  that  money,  do  you  reckon?" 

11  Every  cent  of  it." 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  153 

"And  you  fellows  got  away  with  them?" 

"As  easy  as  nothing.  I  don't  reckon  the  julery 
people  know  they've  been  robbed  yet.  But  it  wouldn't 
be  good  sense  to  stay  around  St.  Louis,  of  course,  so 
we  considered  where  we'd  go.  One  was  for  going  one 
way,  one  another,  so  we  throwed  up,  heads  or  tails, 
and  the  Upper  Mississippi  won.  We  done  up  the 
di'monds  in  a  paper  and  put  our  names  on  it  and  put 
it  in  the  keep  of  the  hotel  clerk,  and  told  him  not  to 
ever  let  either  of  us  have  it  again  without  the  others  was 
on  hand  to  see  it  done;  then  we  went  down  town,  each 
by  his  own  self  —  because  I  reckon  maybe  we  all  had 
the  same  notion.  I  don't  know  for  certain,  but  I 
reckon  maybe  we  had." 

"  What  notion?"  Tom  says. 

"To  rob  the  others." 

* '  What  —  one  take  everything,  after  all  of  you  had 
helped  to  get  it?" 

"Cert'nly." 

It  disgusted  Tom  Sawyer,  and  he  said  it  was  the 
orneriest,  low-downest  thing  he  ever  heard  of.  But 
Jake  Dunlap  said  it  warn't  unusual  in  the  profession. 
Said  when  a  person  was  in  that  line  of  business  he'd 
got  to  look  out  for  his  own  intrust,  there  warn't  no 
body  else  going  to  do  it  for  him.  And  then  he  went 
on.  He  says: 

"You  see,  the  trouble  was,  you  couldn't  divide  up 
two  di'monds  amongst  three.  If  there'd  been  three  — 
But  never  mind  about  that,  there  warn't  three.  I 
loafed  along  the  back  streets  studying  and  studying. 


154  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

And  I  says  to  myself,  I'll  hog  them  di'monds  the  first 
chance  I  get,  and  I'll  have  a  disguise  all  ready,  and  I'll 
give  the  boys  the  slip,  and  when  I'm  safe  away  I'll  put 
it  on,  and  then  let  them  find  me  if  they  can.  So  I  got 
the  false  whiskers  and  the  goggles  and  this  countrified 
suit  of  clothes,  and  fetched  them  along  back  in  a  hand 
bag;  and  when  I  was  passing  a  shop  where  they  sell  all 
sorts  of  things,  I  got  a  glimpse  of  one  of  my  pals 
through  the  window.  It  was  Bud  Dixon.  I  was  glad, 
you  bet.  I  says  to  myself,  I'll  see  what  he  buys.  So 
I  kept  shady,  and  watched.  Now  what  do  you  reckon 
it  was  he  bought?" 

"Whiskers?"  said  I. 

"No." 

"Goggles?" 

"No." 

"  Oh,  keep  still,  Huck  Finn,  can't  you,  you're  only 
just  hendering  all  you  can.  What  was  it  he  bought, 
Jake?" 

1  You'd  never  guess  in  the  world.  It  was  only  just 
a  screwdriver  —  just  a  wee  little  bit  of  a  screwdriver." 

"  Well,  I  declare  !     What  did  he  want  with  that?" 

"  That's  what  7  thought.  It  was  curious.  It  clean 
stumped  me.  I  says  to  myself,  what  can  he  want  with 
that  thing?  Well,  when  he  come  out  I  stood  back  out 
of  sight,  and  then  tracked  him  to  a  second-hand  slop 
shop  and  see  him  buy  a  red  flannel  shirt  and  some  old 
ragged  clothes  —  just  the  ones  he's  got  on  now,  as 
you've  described.  Then  I  went  down  to  the  wharf  and 
hid  my  things  aboard  the  up-river  boat  that  we  had 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  155 

picked  out,  and  then  started  back  and  had  another 
streak  of  luck.  I  seen  our  other  pal  lay  in  his  stock 
of  old  rusty  second-handers.  We  got  the  di'monds 
and  went  aboard  the  boat. 

"  But  now  we  was  up  a  stump,  for  we  couldn't  go 
to  bed.  We  had  to  set  up  and  watch  one  another. 
Pity,  that  was;  pity  to  put  that  kind  of  a  strain  on  us, 
because  there  was  bad  blood  between  us  from  a 
couple  of  weeks  back,  and  we  was  only  friends  in  the 
way  of  business.  Bad  anyway,  seeing  there  was  only 
two  di'monds  betwixt  three  men.  First  we  had  supper, 
and  then  tramped  up  and  down  the  deck  together 
smoking  till  most  midnight;  then  we  went  and  set 
down  in  my  stateroom  and  locked  the  doors  and  looked 
in  the  piece  of  paper  to  see  if  the  di'monds  was  all 
right,  then  laid  it  on  the  lower  berth  right  in  full  sight ; 
and  there  we  set,  and  set,  and  by-and-by  it  got  to  be 
dreadful  hard  to  keep  awake.  At  last  Bud  Dixon  he 
dropped  off.  As  soon  as  he  was  snoring  a  good  regular 
gait  that  was  likely  to  last,  and  had  his  chin  on  his 
breast  and  looked  permanent,  Hal  Clayton  nodded 
towards  the  di'monds  and  then  towards  the  outside 
door,  and  I  understood.  I  reached  and  got  the  paper, 
and  then  we  stood  up  and  waited  perfectly  still ;  Bud 
never  stirred;  I  turned  the  key  of  the  outside  door 
very  soft  and  slow,  then  turned  the  knob  the  same 
way,  and  we  went  tiptoeing  out  onto  the  guard,  and 
shut  the  door  very  soft  and  gentle. 

"There  warn't  nobody  stirring  anywhere,  and  the 
boat  was  slipping  along,  swift  and  steady,  through  the 


156  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

big  water  in  the  smoky  moonlight.  We  never  said  a 
word,  but  went  straight  up  onto  the  hurricane-deck  and 
plumb  back  aft,  and  set  down  on  the  end  of  the  sky 
light.  Both  of  us  knowed  what  that  meant,  without 
having  to  explain  to  one  another.  Bud  Dixon  would 
wake  up  and  miss  the  swag,  and  would  come  straight 
for  us,  for  he  ain't  afeard  of  anything  or  anybody,  that 
man  ain't.  He  would  come,  and  we  would  heave  him 
overboard,  or  get  killed  trying.  It  made  me  shiver, 
because  I  ain't  as  brave  as  some  people,  but  if  I 
showed  the  white  feather  —  well,  I  knowed  better  than 
do  that.  I  kind  of  hoped  the  boat  would  land  somers, 
and  we  could  skip  ashore  and  not  have  to  run  the  risk 
of  this  row,  I  was  so  scared  of  Bud  Dixon,  but  she 
was  an  upper-river  tub  and  there  warn't  no  real  chance 
of  that. 

"Well,  the  time  strung  along  and  along,  and  that 
fellow  never  come !  Why,  it  strung  along  till  dawn 
begun  to  break,  and  still  he  never  come.  '  Thunder/  I 
says,  'what  do  you  make  out  of  this? — ain't  it  sus 
picious?'  'Land!'  Hal  says,  'do  you  reckon  he's 
playing  us? — open  the  paper!'  I  done  it,  and  by 
gracious  there  warn't  anything  in  it  but  a  couple  of 
little  pieces  of  loaf-sugar !  That's  the  reason  he  could 
set  there  and  snooze  all  night  so  comfortable.  Smart? 
Well,  I  reckon !  He  had  had  them  two  papers  all  fixed 
and  ready,  and  he  had  put  one  of  them  in  place  of 
t'other  right  under  our  noses. 

11  We  felt  pretty  cheap.  But  the  thing  to  do,  straight 
off,  was  to  make  a  plan ;  and  we  done  it.  We  would 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  157 

do  up  the  paper  again,  just  as  it  was,  and  slip  in,  very 
elaborate  and  soft,  and  lay  it  on  the  bunk  again,  and 
let  on  we  didn't  know  about  any  trick,  and  hadn't  any 
idea  he  was  a-laughing  at  us  behind  them  bogus  snores 
of  his'n;  and  we  would  stick  by  him,  and  the  first 
night  we  was  ashore  we  would  get  him  drunk  and 
search  him,  and  get  the  di'monds;  and  do  for  him, 
too,  if  it  warn't  too  risky.  If  we  got  the  swag,  we'd 
got  to  do  for  him,  or  he  would  hunt  us  down  and  do  for 
us,  sure.  But  I  didn't  have  no  real  hope.  I  knowed 
we  could  get  him  drunk  —  he  was  always  ready  for 
that  —  but  what's  the  good  of  it?  You  might  search 
him  a  year  and  never  find  — 

"Well,  right  there  I  catched  my  breath  and  broke 
off  my  thought !  For  an  idea  went  ripping  through  my 
head  that  tore  my  brains  to  rags  —  and  land,  but  I  felt 
gay  and  good  !  You  see,  I  had  had  my  boots  off,  to 
unswell  my  feet,  and  just  then  I  took  up  one  of  them 
to  put  it  on,  and  I  catched  a  glimpse  of  the  heel- 
bottom,  and  it  just  took  my  breath  away.  You  re 
member  about  that  puzzlesome  little  screwdriver?'* 

'  You  bet  I  do,"  says  Tom,  all  excited. 

"Well,  when  I  catched  that  glimpse  of  that  boot 
heel,  the  idea  that  went  smashing  through  my  head 
was,  /know  where  he's  hid  the  di'monds!  You  look 
at  this  boot  heel,  now.  See,  it's  bottomed  with  a  steel 
plate,  and  the  plate  is  fastened  on  with  little  screws. 
Now  there  wasn't  a  screw  about  that  feller  anywhere 
but  in  his  boot  heels;  so,  if  he  needed  a  screwdriver, 
I  reckoned  I  knowed  why." 


158  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

11  Huck,  ain't  it  bully!"   says  Tom. 

"Well,  I  got  my  boots  on,  and  we  went  down  and 
slipped  in  and  laid  the  paper  of  sugar  on  the  berth, 
and  sat  down  soft  and  sheepish  and  went  to  listening  to 
Bud  Dixon  snore.  Hal  Clayton  dropped  off  pretty 
soon,  but  I  didn't;  I  wasn't  ever  so  wide  awake  in  my 
life.  I  was  spying  out  from  under  the  shade  of  my 
hat  brim,  searching  the  floor  for  leather.  It  took  me  a 
long  time,  and  I  begun  to  think  maybe  my  guess  was 
wrong,  but  at  last  I  struck  it.  It  laid  over  by  the 
bulkhead,  and  was  nearly  the  color  of  the  carpet.  It 
was  a  little  round  plug  about  as  thick  as  the  end  of  your 
little  finger,  and  I  says  to  myself  there's  a  di'mond  in 
the  nest  you've  come  from.  Before  long  I  spied  out 
the  plug's  mate. 

"Think  of  the  smartness  and  coolness  of  that 
blatherskite !  He  put  up  that  scheme  on  us  and 
reasoned  out  what  we  would  do,  and  we  went  ahead 
and  done  it  perfectly  exact,  like  a  couple  of  pudd'n- 
heads.  He  set  there  and  took  his  own  time  to  un 
screw  his  heelplates  and  cut  out  his  plugs  and  stick  in 
the  di'monds  and  screw  on  his  plates  again.  He 
allowed  we  would  steal  the  bogus  swag  and  wait  all 
night  for  him  to  come  up  and  get  drownded,  and  by 
George  it's  just  what  we  done!  /think  it  was  power 
ful  smart." 

"  You  bet  your  life  it  was !"  says  Tom,  just  full  of 
admiration. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE  THREE  SLEEPERS 

f{\V/ELL,  all  day  we  went  through  the  humbug  of 
VV  watching  one  another,  and  it  was  pretty  sickly 
business  for  two  of  us  and  hard  to  act  out,  I  can  tell 
you.  About  night  we  landed  at  one  of  them  little 
Missouri  towns  high  up  toward  Iowa,  and  had  supper 
at  the  tavern,  and  got  a  room  upstairs  with  a  cot  and  a 
double  bed  in  it,  but  I  dumped  my  bag  under  a  deal 
table  in  the  dark  hall  while  we  was  moving  along  it  to 
bed,  single  file,  me  last,  and  the  landlord  in  the  lead 
with  a  tallow  candle.  We  had  up  a  lot  of  whisky,  and 
went  to  playing  high-low-jack  for  dimes,  and  as  soon 
as  the  whisky  begun  to  take  hold  of  Bud  we  stopped 
drinking,  but  we  didn't  let  him  stop.  We  loaded  him 
till  he  fell  out  of  his  chair  and  laid  there  snoring. 

"  We  was  ready  for  business  now.  I  said  we  better 
pull  our  boots  off,  and  his'n  too,  and  not  make  any 
noise,  then  we  could  pull  him  and  haul  him  around  and 
ransack  him  without  any  trouble.  So  we  done  it.  I 
set  my  boots  and  Bud's  side  by  side,  where  they'd  be 
handy.  Then  we  stripped  him  and  searched  his  seams 
and  his  pockets  and  his  socks  and  the  inside  of  his 
boots,  and  everything,  and  searched  his  bundle.  Never 
"  (159) 


160  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

found  any  di'monds.  We  found  the  screwdriver,  and 
Hal  says,  '  What  do  you  reckon  he  wanted  with  that?' 
I  said  I  didn't  know;  but  when  he  wasn't  looking  I 
hooked  it.  At  last  Hal  he  looked  beat  and  discour 
aged,  and  said  we'd  got  to  give  it  up.  That  was  what 
I  was  waiting  for.  I  says  : 

14  '  There's  one  place  we  hain't  searched.' 

11  '  What  place  is  that?'  he  says. 

"  '  His  stomach.' 

'  By  gracious,  I  never  thought  of  that !  Now  we're 
on  the  homestretch,  to  a  dead  moral  certainty.  How' 11 
we  manage?' 

'  Well,'  I  says,  '  just  stay  by  him  till  I  turn  out  and 
hunt  up  a  drug  store,  and  I  reckon  I'll  fetch  something 
that'll  make  them  di'monds  tired  of  the  company 
they're  keeping/ 

"He  said  that's  the  ticket,  and  with  him  looking 
straight  at  me  I  slid  myself  into  Bud's  boots  instead  of 
my  own,  and  he  never  noticed.  They  was  just  a  shade 
large  for  me,  but  that  was  considerable  better  than  be 
ing  too  small.  I  got  my  bag  as  I  went  a-groping 
through  the  hall,  and  in  about  a  minute  I  was  out  the 
back  way  and  stretching  up  the  river  road  at  a  five-mile 
gait. 

"And  not  feeling  so  very  bad,  neither  —  walking  on 
di'monds  don't  have  no  such  effect.  When  I  had  gone 
fifteen  minutes  I  says  to  myself,  there's  more'n  a  mile 
behind  me,  and  everything  quiet.  Another  five  minutes 
and  I  says  there's  considerable  more  land  behind  me 
now,  and  there's  a  man  back  there  that's  begun  to 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  161 

wonder  what's  the  trouble.  Another  five  and  I  says  to 
myself  he's  getting  real  uneasy  —  he's  walking  the  floor 
now.  Another  five,  and  I  says  to  myself,  there's  two 
mile  and  a  half  behind  me,  and  he's  awful  uneasy  —  be 
ginning  to  cuss,  I  reckon.  Pretty  soon  I  says  to  my 
self ,  forty  minutes  gone  —  he  knows  there's  something 
up!  Fifty  minutes  —  the  truth's  a-busting  on  him 
now!  he  is  reckoning  I  found  the  di'monds  whilst  we 
was  searching,  and  shoved  them  in  my  pocket  and  never 
let  on  —  yes,  and  he's  starting  out  to  hunt  for  me. 
He'll  hunt  for  new  tracks  in  the  dust,  and  they'll  as 
likely  send  him  down  the  river  as  up. 

"  Just  then  I  see  a  man  coming  down  on  a  mule,  and 
before  I  thought  I  jumped  into  the  bush.  It  was 
stupid  !  When  he  got  abreast  he  stopped  and  waited 
a  little  for  me  to  come  out;  then  he  rode  on  again. 
But  I  didn't  feel  gay  any  more.  I  says  to  myself  I've 
botched  my  chances  by  that;  I  surely  have,  if  he  meets 
up  with  Hal  Clayton, 

"Well,  about  three  in  the  morning  I  fetched  Elex- 
andria  and  see  this  stern- wheeler  laying  there,  and  was 
very  glad,  because  I  felt  perfectly  safe,  now,  you  know. 
It  was  just  daybreak.  I  went  aboard  and  got  this  state 
room  and  put  on  these  clothes  and  went  up  in  the  pilot 
house —  to  watch,  though  I  didn't  reckon  there  was 
any  need  of  it.  I  set  there  and  played  with  my 
di'monds  and  waited  and  waited  for  the  boat  to  start, 
but  she  didn't.  You  see,  they  was  mending  her 
machinery,  but  I  didn't  know  anything  about  it,  not 
being  very  much  used  to  steamboats. 


162  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

"  Well,  to  cut  the  tale  short,  we  never  left  there  till 
plumb  noon;  and  long  before  that  I  was  hid  in  this 
stateroom ;  for  before  breakfast  I  see  a  man  coming, 
away  off,  that  had  a  gait  like  Hal  Clayton's,  and  it 
made  me  just  sick.  I  says  to  myself,  if  he  finds  out 
I'm  aboard  this  boat,  he's  got  me  like  a  rat  in  a  trap. 
All  he's  got  to  do  is  to  have  me  watched,  and  wait  — 
wait  till  I  slip  ashore,  thinking  he  is  a  thousand  miles 
away,  then  slip  after  me  and  dog  me  to  a  good  place 
and  make  me  give  up  the  di'monds,  and  then  he'll  — 
oh,  /  know  what  he'll  do!  Ain't  it  awful  —  awful! 
And  now  to  think  the  other  one's  aboard,  too!  Oh, 
ain't  it  hard  luck,  boys  — ain't  it  hard  !  But  you'll  help 
save  me,  won't  you?  —  oh,  boys,  be  good  to  a  poor 
devil  that's  being  hunted  to  death,  and  save  me — I'll 
worship  the  very  ground  you  walk  on  ! " 

We  turned  in  and  soothed  him  down  and  told  him 
we  would  plan  for  him  and  help  him,  and  he  needn't 
be  so  afeard ;  and  so  by  and  by  he  got  to  feeling  kind 
of  comfortable  again,  and  unscrewed  his  heelplates  and 
held  up  his  di'monds  this  way  and  that,  admiring  them 
and  loving  them ;  and  when  the  light  struck  into  them 
they  was  beautiful,  sure ;  why,  they  seemed  to  kind  of 
bust,  and  snap  fire  out  all  around.  But  all  the  same  I 
judged  he  was  a  fool.  If  I  had  been  him  I  would  a 
handed  the  di'monds  to  them  pals  and  got  them  to  go 
ashore  and  leave  me  alone.  But  he  was  made  differ 
ent.  He  said  it  was  a  whole  fortune  and  he  couldn't 
bear  the  idea. 

Twice  we  stopped  to  fix  the  machinery  and  laid  a 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  163 

good  while,  once  in  the  night;  but  it  wasn't  dark 
enough,  and  he  was  afeard  to  skip.  But  the  third 
time  we  had  to  fix  it  there  was  a  better  chance.  We 
laid  up  at  a  country  woodyard  about  forty  mile  above 
Uncle  Silas's  place  a  little  after  one  at  night,  and  it  was 
thickening  up  and  going  to  storm.  So  Jake  he  laid  for 
a  chance  to  slide.  We  begun  to  take  in  wood.  Pretty 
soon  the  rain  come  a-drenching  down,  and  the  wind 
blowed  hard.  Of  course  every  boat-hand  fixed  a 
gunny  sack  and  put  it  on  like  a  bonnet,  the  way  they 
do  when  they  are  toting  wood,  and  we  got  one  for 
Jake,  and  he  slipped  down  aft  with  his  hand-bag  and 
come  tramping  forrard  just  like  the  rest,  and  walked 
ashore  with  them,  and  when  we  see  him  pass  out  of  the 
light  of  the  torch-basket  and  get  swallowed  up  in  the 
dark,  we  got  our  breath  again  and  just  felt  grateful  and 
splendid.  But  it  wasn't  for  long.  Somebody  told,  I 
reckon;  for  in  about  eight  or  ten  minutes  them  two 
pals  come  tearing  forrard  as  tight  as  they  could  jump 
and  darted  ashore  and  was  gone.  We  waited  plumb 
till  dawn  for  them  to  come  back,  and  kept  hoping  they 
would,  but  they  never  did.  We  was  awful  sorry  and 
low-spirited.  All  the  hope  we  had  was  that  Jake  had 
got  such  a  start  that  they  couldn't  get  on  his  track,  and 
he  would  get  to  his  brother's  and  hide  there  and  be 
safe. 

He  was  going  to  take  the  river  road,  and  told  us  to 
find  out  if  Brace  and  Jubiter  was  to  home  and  no 
strangers  there,  and  then  slip  out  about  sundown  and 
tell  him.  Said  he  would  wait  for  us  in  a  little  bunch  of 


164  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

sycamores  right  back  of  Tom's  uncle  Silas's  tobacker 
field  on  the  river  road,  a  lonesome  place. 

We  set  and  talked  a  long  time  about  his  chances,  and 
Tom  said  he  was  all  right  if  the  pals  struck  up  the 
river  instead  of  down,  but  it  wasn't  likely,  because 
maybe  they  knowed  where  he  was  from ;  more  likely 
they  would  go  right,  and  dog  him  all  day,  him  not 
suspecting,  and  kill  him  when  it  come  dark,  and  take 
the  boots.  So  we  was  pretty  sorrowful. 


CHAPTER   V. 

A  TRAGEDY  IN  THE  WOODS 

WE  didn't  get  done  tinkering  the  machinery  till  away 
late  in  the  afternoon,  and  so  it  was  so  close  to 
sundown  when  we  got  home  that  we  never  stopped  on 
our  road,  but  made  a  break  for  the  sycamores  as  tight 
as  we  could  go,  to  tell  Jake  what  the  delay  was,  and 
have  him  wait  till  we  could  go  to  Brace's  and  find  out 
how  things  was  there.  It  was  getting  pretty  dim  by  the 
time  we  turned  the  corner  of  the  woods,  sweating  and 
panting  with  that  long  run,  and  see  the  sycamores  thirty 
yards  ahead  of  us ;  and  just  then  we  see  a  couple  of 
men  run  into  the  bunch  and  heard  two  or  three  terrible 
screams  for  help.  'Poor  Jake  is  killed,  sure,"  we 
says.  We  was  scared  through  and  through,  and  broke 
for  the  tobacker  field  and  hid  there,  trembling  so  our 
clothes  would  hardly  stay  on ;  and  just  as  we  skipped 
in  there,  a  couple  of  men  went  tearing  by,  and  into  the 
bunch  they  went,  and  in  a  second  out  jumps  four  men 
and  took  out  up  the  road  as  tight  as  they  could  go, 
two  chasing  two. 

We  laid  down,  kind  of  weak  and  sick,  and  listened 
for  more  sounds,  but  didn't  hear  none  for  a  good  while 

(165) 


166  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

but  just  our  hearts.  We  was  thinking  of  that  awful 
thing  laying  yonder  in  the  sycamores,  and  it  seemed 
like  being  that  close  to  a  ghost,  and  it  give  me  the  cold 
shudders.  The  moon  come  a-swelling  up  out  of  the 
ground,  now,  powerful  big  and  round  and  bright,  be 
hind  a  comb  of  trees,  like  a  face  looking  through  prison 
bars,  and  the  black  shadders  and  white  places  begun  to 
creep  around,  and  it  was  miserable  quiet  and  still  and 
night-breezy  and  graveyardy  and  scary.  All  of  a  sud 
den  Tom  whispers : 

-Look!— what's  that?" 

"Don't!"  I  says.  "  Don't  take  a  person  by  sur 
prise  that  way.  I'm  'most  ready  to  die,  anyway,  with 
out  you  doing  that." 

"Look,  I  tell  you.  It's  something  coming  out  of 
the  sycamores." 

"Don't,  Tom!" 

"It's  terrible  tall!" 

"Oh,  lordy-lordy!  let's—" 

"  Keep  still  —  it's  a-coming  this  way." 

He  was  so  excited  he  could  hardly  get  breath  enough 
to  whisper.  I  had  to  look.  I  couldn't  help  it.  So 
now  we  was  both  on  our  knees  with  our  chins  on  a 
fence  rail  and  gazing  —  yes,  and  gasping,  too.  It  was 
coming  down  the  road  —  coming  in  the  shadder  of  the 
trees,  and  you  couldn't  see  it  good;  not  till  it  was 
pretty  close  to  us ;  then  it  stepped  into  a  bright  splotch 
of  moonlight  and  we  sunk  right  down  in  our  tracks  — 
it  was  Jake  Dunlap's  ghost!  That  was  what  we  said 
to  ourselves. 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  167 

We  couldn't  stir  for  a  minute  or  two;  then  it  was 
gone.  We  talked  about  it  in  low  voices.  Tom 
says: 

"They're  mostly  dim  and  smoky,  or  like  they're 
made  out  of  fog,  but  this  one  wasn't." 

"No,"  I  says ;  "I  seen  the  goggles  and  the  whiskers 
perfectly  plain." 

"  Yes,  and  the  very  colors  in  them  loud  countrified 
Sunday  clothes  —  plaid  breeches,  green  and  black — " 

"Cotton-velvet  westcot,  fire-red  and  yaller  squares — " 

"  Leather  straps  to  the  bottoms  of  the  breeches  legs 
and  one  of  them  hanging  unbuttoned — " 

"Yes,  and  that  hat — " 

"What  a  hat  for  a  ghost  to  wear !" 

You  see  it  was  the  first  season  anybody  wore  that 
kind  —  a  black  stiff-brim  stove-pipe,  very  high,  and 
not  smooth,  with  a  round  top  —  just  like  a  sugar-loaf. 

"  Did  you  notice  if  its  hair  was  the  same,  Huck?" 

"  No  —  seems  to  me  I  did,  then  again  it  seems  to  me 
I  didn't." 

"  I  didn't  either;  but  it  had  its  bag  along,  I  noticed 
that." 

"  So  did  I.     How  can  there  be  a  ghost-bag,  Tom?" 

"  Sho !  I  wouldn't  be  as  ignorant  as  that  if  I  was 
you,  Huck  Finn.  Whatever  a  ghost  has,  turns  to  ghost- 
stuff.  They've  got  to  have  their  things,  like  anybody 
else.  You  see,  yourself,  that  its  clothes  was  turned  to 
ghost-stuff.  Well,  then,  what's  to  hender  its  bag  from 
turning,  too?  Of  course  it  done  it." 

That  was  reasonable.     I  couldn't  find  no  fault  with 


168  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

it.  Bill  Withers  and  his  brother  Jack  come  along  by, 
talking,  and  Jack  says : 

"  What  do  you  reckon  he  was  toting?" 

"  I  dunno  ;   but  it  was  pretty  heavy." 

"  Yes,  all  he  could  lug.  Nigger  stealing  corn  from 
old  Parson  Silas,  I  judged." 

"  So  did  I.  And  so  I  allowed  I  wouldn't  let  on  to 
see  him." 

"That's  me,  too." 

Then  they  both  laughed,  and  went  on  out  of  hearing. 
It  showed  how  unpopular  old  Uncle  Silas  had  got  to  be 
now.  They  wouldn't  'a'  let  a  nigger  steal  anybody 
else's  corn  and  never  done  anything  to  him. 

We  heard  some  more  voices  mumbling  along  towards 
us  and  getting  louder,  and  sometimes  a  cackle  of  a 
laugh.  It  was  Lem  Beebe  and  Jim  Lane.  Jim  Lane 
says: 

•«  Who?—  Jubiter  Dunlap?" 

"Yes." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  I  reckon  so.  I  seen  him  spad 
ing  up  some  ground  along  about  an  hour  ago,  just  be 
fore  sundown  —  him  and  the  parson.  Said  he  guessed 
he  wouldn't  go  to-night,  but  we  could  have  his  dog  if 
we  wanted  him." 

"Too  tired,  I  reckon." 

' '  Yes  —  works  so  hard  ! ' ' 

"Oh,  you  bet!" 

They  cackled  at  that,  and  went  on  by.  Tom  said  we 
better  jump  out  and  tag  along  after  them,  because  they 
was  going  our  way  and  it  wouldn't  be  comfortable  to 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  169 

run  across  the  ghost  all  by  ourselves.     So  we  done  it, 
and  got  home  all  right. 

That  night  was  the  second  of  September  —  a  Satur 
day.  I  sha'n't  ever  forget  it.  You'll  see  why,  pretty 
soon. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

PLANS  TO  SECURE  THE  DIAMONDS 

WE  tramped  along  behind  Jim  and  Lem  till  we  come 
to  the  back  stile  where  old  Jim's  cabin  was  that 
he  was  captivated  in,  the  time  we  set  him  free,  and  here 
come  the  dogs  piling  around  us  to  say  howdy,  and 
there  was  the  lights  of  the  house,  too ;  so  we  warn't 
afeard  any  more,  and  was  going  to  climb  over,  but 
Tom  says : 

"  Hold  on;   set  down  here  a  minute.     By  George  !" 

"  What's  the  matter?"   says  I. 

"  Matter  enough  !"  he  says.  "  Wasn't  you  expect 
ing  we  would  be  the  first  to  tell  the  family  who  it  is 
that's  been  killed  yonder  in  the  sycamores,  and  all 
about  them  rapscallions  that  done  it,  and  about  the 
di'monds  they've  smouched  off  of  the  corpse,  and  paint 
it  up  fine,  and  have  the  glory  of  being  the  ones  that 
knows  a  lot  more  about  it  than  anybody  else?" 

"Why,  of  course.  It  wouldn't  be  you,  Tom  Sawyer, 
if  you  was  to  let  such  a  chance  go  by.  I  reckon  it 
ain't  going  to  suffer  none  for  lack  of  paint,"  I  says, 
"  when  you  start  in  to  scollop  the  facts/' 

11  Well,  now,"  he  says,  perfectly  ca'm,  "  what  would 

(170) 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  171 

you  say  if  I  was  to  tell  you  I  ain't  going  to  start  in%at 
all?" 

I  was  astonished  to  hear  him  talk  so.     I  says: 

"I'd  say  it's  a  lie.  You  ain't  in  earnest,  Tom 
Sawyer?" 

"You'll  soon  see.     Was  the  ghost  barefooted?" 

"  No,  it  wasn't.     What  of  it?" 

"You  wait  —  I'll  show  you  what.  Did  it  have  its 
boots  on?" 

"  Yes.     I  seen  them  plain." 

"Swear  it?" 

"Yes,  I  swear  it." 

"  So  do  I.     Now  do  you  know  what  that  means?" 

"  No.     What  does  it  mean?" 

"  Means  that  them  thieves  didn't  get  the  diamonds ." 

"  Jimminy  !     What  makes  you  think  that?" 

"I  don't  only  think  it,  I  know  it.  Didn't  the 
breeches  and  goggles  and  whiskers  and  hand-bag  and 
every  blessed  thing  turn  to  ghost-stuff?  Everything  it 
had  on  turned,  didn't  it?  It  shows  that  the  reason  its 
boots  turned  too  was  because  it  still  had  them  on  after 
it  started  to  go  ha'nting  around,  and  if  that  ain't  proof 
that  them  blatherskites  didn't  get  the  boots,  I'd  like  to 
know  what  you'd  call  proof." 

Think  of  that  now.  I  never  see  such  a  head  as  that 
boy  had.  Why,  /  had  eyes  and  I  could  see  things,  but 
they  never  meant  nothing  to  me.  But  Tom  Sawyer 
was  different.  When  Tom  Sawyer  seen  a  thing  it  just 
got  up  on  its  hind  legs  and  talked  to  him  —  told  him 
everything  it  knowed.  7  never  see  such  a  head. 


172  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

"Tom  Sawyer,"  I  says,  "I'll  say  it  again  as  I've 
said  it  a  many  a  time  before:  I  ain't  fitten  to  black 
your  boots.  But  that's  all  right  —  that's  neither  here 
nor  there.  God  Almighty  made  us  all,  and  some  He 
gives  eyes  that's  blind,  and  some  He  gives  eyes  that 
can  see,  and  I  reckon  it  ain't  none  of  our  lookout  what 
He  done  it  for;  it's  all  right,  or  He'd  'a'  fixed  it  some 
other  way.  Go  on  —  I  see  plenty  plain  enough,  now, 
that  them  thieves  didn't  get  way  with  the  di'monds. 
Why  didn't  they,  do  you  reckon?" 

"  Because  they  got  chased  away  by  them  other  two 
men  before  they  could  pull  the  boots  off  of  the  corpse." 

"That's  so!  I  see  it  now.  But  looky  here,  Tom, 
why  ain't  we  to  go  and  tell  about  it?" 

"  Oh,  shucks,  Huck  Finn,  can't  you  see?  Look  at 
it.  What's  a-going  to  happen?  There's  going  to  be 
an  inquest  in  the  morning.  Them  two  men  will  tell 
how  they  heard  the  yells  and  rushed  there  just  in  time 
to  not  save  the  stranger.  Then  the  jury  '11  twaddle 
and  twaddle  and  twaddle,  and  finally  they'll  fetch  in  a 
verdict  that  he  got  shot  or  stuck  or  busted  over  the 
head  with  something,  and  come  to  his  death  by  the  in 
spiration  of  God.  And  after  they've  buried  him  they'll 
auction  off  his  things  for  to  pay  the  expenses,  and 
then's  our  chance." 

"How,  Tom?" 

"  Buy  the  boots  for  two  dollars !" 

Well,  it  'most  took  my  breath. 

"  My  land  !     Why,  Tom,  we'll  get  the  di'monds  !" 

"You    bet.     Some    day   there'll    be    a   big   reward 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  173 

offered  for  them  —  a  thousand  dollars,  sure.  That's 
our  money!  Now  we'll  trot  in  and  see  the  folks. 
And  mind  you  we  don't  know  anything  about  any 
murder,  or  any  di'monds,  or  any  thieves  —  don't  you 
forget  that." 

I  had  to  sigh  a  little  over  the  way  he  had  got  it  fixed, 
/'d  'a'  sold  them  di'monds  —  yes,  sir  —  for  twelve 
thousand  dollars;  but  I  didn't  say  anything.  It 
wouldn't  done  any  good.  I  says: 

1 '  But  what  are  we  going  to  tell  your  aunt  Sally  has 
made  us  so  long  getting  down  here  from  the  village, 
Tom?" 

"Oh,  I'll  leave  that  to  you,"  he  says.  "  I  reckon 
you  can  explain  it  somehow." 

He  was  always  just  that  strict  and  delicate.  He 
never  would  tell  a  lie  himself. 

We  struck  across  the  big  yard,  noticing  this,  that, 
and  t'other  thing  that  was  so  familiar,  and  we  so  glad 
to  see  it  again,  and  when  we  got  to  the  roofed  big 
passageway  betwixt  the  double  log  house  and  the 
kitchen  part,  there  was  everything  hanging  on  the  wall 
just  as  it  used  to  was,  even  to  Uncle  Silas's  old  faded 
green  baize  working-gown  with  the  hood  to  it,  and  rag 
gedy  white  patch  between  the  shoulders  that  always 
looked  like  somebody  had  hit  him  with  a  snowball ;  and 
then  we  lifted  the  latch  and  walked  in.  Aunt  Sally  she 
was  just  a-ripping  and  a-tearing  around,  and  the 
children  was  huddled  in  one  corner,  and  the  old  man 
he  was  huddled  in  the  other  and  praying  for  help  in 
time  of  need.  She  jumped  for  us  with  joy  and  tears 


174  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

running  down  her  face  and  give  us  a  whacking  box  on 
the  ear,  and  then  hugged  us  and  kissed  us  and  boxed 
us  again,  and  just  couldn't  seem  to  get  enough  of  it, 
she  was  so  glad  to  see  us ;  and  she  says : 

"Where  have  you  been  a-loafmg  to,  you  good-for- 
nothing  trash!  I've  been  that  worried  about  you  I 
didn't  know  what  to  do.  Your  traps  has  been  here 
ever  so  long,  and  I've  had  supper  cooked  fresh  about 
four  times  so  as  to  have  it  hot  and  good  when  you 
come,  till  at  last  my  patience  is  just  plumb  wore  out, 
and  I  declare  I  —  I  —  why  I  could  skin  you  alive  !  You 
must  be  starving,  poor  things! — set  down,  set  down, 
everybody;  don't  lose  no  more  time." 

It  was  good  to  be  there  again  behind  all  that  noble 
corn-pone  and  spareribs,  and  everything  that  you  could 
ever  want  in  this  world.  Old  Uncle  Silas  he  peeled  off 
one  of  his  bulliest  old-time  blessings,  with  as  many 
layers  to  it  as  an  onion,  and  whilst  the  angels  was  haul 
ing  in  the  slack  of  it  I  was  trying  to  study  up  what  to 
say  about  what  kept  us  so  long.  When  our  plates  was 
all  leadened  and  we'd  got  a-going,  she  asked  me,  and 
I  says: 

"Well,  you  see, —  er  —  Mizzes — " 

11  Huck  Finn!  Since  when  am  I  Mizzes  to  you? 
Have  I  ever  been  stingy  of  cuffs  or  kisses  for  you  since 
the  day  you  stood  in  this  room  and  I  took  you  for  Tom 
Sawyer  and  blessed  God  for  sending  you  to  me,  though 
you  told  me  four  thousand  lies  and  I  believed  every 
one  of  them  like  a  simpleton?  Call  me  Aunt  Saliy  — 
like  you  always  done." 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  175 

So  I  done  it.     And  I  says : 

"  Well,  me  and  Tom  allowed  we  would  come  along 
afoot  and  take  a  smell  of  the  woods,  and  we  run  across 
Lem  Beebe  and  Jim  Lane,  and  they  asked  us  to  go  with 
them  blackberrying  to-night,  and  said  they  could  bor 
row  Jubiter  Dunlap's  dog,  because  he  had  told  them 
just  that  minute — " 

"Where  did  they  see  him?"  says  the  old  man;  and 
when  I  looked  up  to  see  how  he  come  to  take  an  intrust 
in  a  little  thing  like  that,  his  eyes  was  just  burning  into 
me,  he  was  that  eager.  It  surprised  me  so  it  kind  of 
throwed  me  off,  but  I  pulled  myself  together  again  and 
says : 

"  It  was  when  he  was  spading  up  some  ground  along 
with  you,  towards  sundown  or  along  there." 

He  only  said,  "Um,"  in  a  kind  of  a  disappointed 
way,  and  didn't  take  no  more  intrust.  So  I  went  on. 
I  says : 

"Well,  then,  as  I  was  a-saying — " 
'That'll  do,  you  needn't  go  no  furder."  It  was 
Aunt  Sally.  She  was  boring  right  into  me  with  her 
eyes,  and  very  indignant.  "  Huck  Finn,"  she  says, 
"  how'd  them  men  come  to  talk  about  going  a-black- 
berrying  in  September  —  in  this  region?" 

I  see  I  had  slipped  up,  and  I  couldn't  say  a  word. 
She  waited,  still  a-gazing  at  me,  then  she  says : 

"And  how'd  they  come  to  strike  that  idiot  idea  of 
going  a-blackberrying  in  the  night?" 

"Well,  m'm,  they  —  er  —  they  told  us  they  had  a 
lantern,  and — " 


176  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

"Oh,  shet  up  —  do!  Looky  here;  what  was  they 
going  to  do  with  a  dog?  —  hunt  blackberries  with  it?" 

"I  think,  m'm,  they—" 

11  Now,  Tom  Sawyer,  what  kind  of  a  lie  are  you  fix 
ing  your  mouth  to  contribit  to  this  mess  of  rubbage? 
Speak  out  —  and  I  warn  you  before  you  begin,  that 
I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it.  You  and  Huck's  been  up 
to  something  you  no  business  to  —  /know  it  perfectly 
well;  /  know  you,  both  of  you.  Now  you  explain  that 
dog,  and  them  blackberries,  and  the  lantern,  and  the 
rest  of  that  rot  —  and  mind  you  talk  as  straight  as  a 
string  —  do  you  hear?" 

Tom  he  looked  considerable  hurt,  and  says,  very 
dignified : 

"  It  is  a  pity  if  Huck  is  to  be  talked  to  that  way,  just 
for  making  a  little  bit  of  a  mistake  that  anybody  could 
make." 

"  What  mistake  has  he  made?" 

"  Why,  only  the  mistake  of  saying  blackberries  when 
of  course  he  meant  strawberries." 

"Tom  Sawyer,  I  lay  if  you  aggravate  me  a  little 
more,  I'll—" 

"Aunt  Sally,  without  knowing  it  —  and  of  course 
without  intending  it  —  you  are  in  the  wrong.  If  you'd 
'a'  studied  natural  history  the  way  you  ought,  you 
would  know  that  all  over  the  world  except  just  here  in 
Arkansaw  they  always  hunt  strawberries  with  a  dog  — 
and  a  lantern — " 

But  she  busted  in  on  him  there  and  just  piled  into 
him  and  snowed  him  under.  She  was  so  mad  she 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  177 

couldn't  get  the  words  out  fast  enough,  and  she  gushed 
them  out  in  one  everlasting  freshet.  That  was  what 
Tom  Sawyer  was  after.  He  allowed  to  work  her  up 
and  get  her  started  and  then  leave  her  alone  and  let  her 
burn  herself  out.  Then  she  would  be  so  aggravated 
with  that  subject  that  she  wouldn't  say  another  word 
about  it,  nor  let  anybody  else.  Well,  it  happened  just 
so.  When  she  was  tuckered  out  and  had  to  hold  up, 
he  says,  quite  ca'm: 

"And  yet,  all  the  same,  Aunt  Sally — " 
"  Shet    up!"     she    says,    "I    don't   want   to    hear 
another  word  out  of  you." 

So  we  was  perfectly  safe,  then,  and  didn't  have  no 
more  trouble  about  that  delay.     Tom  done  it  elegant. 


12  < 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A  NIGHT'S  VIGIL 

BENNY  she  was  looking  pretty  sober,  and  she  sighed 
some,  now  and  then ;  but  pretty  soon  she  got  to 
asking  about  Mary,  and  Sid,  and  Tom's  aunt  Polly, 
and  then  Aunt  Sally's  clouds  cleared  off  and  she  got  in 
a  good  humor  and  joined  in  on  the  questions  and  was 
her  lovingest  best  self,  and  so  the  rest  of  the  supper 
went  along  gay  and  pleasant.  But  the  old  man  he 
didn't  take  any  hand  hardly,  and  was  absent-minded 
and  restless,  and  done  a  considerable  amount  of  sigh 
ing  ;  and  it  was  kind  of  heart-breaking  to  see  him  so 
sad  and  troubled  and  worried. 

By  and  by,  a  spell  after  supper,  come  a  nigger  and 
knocked  on  the  door  and  put  his  head  in  with  his  old 
straw  hat  in  his  hand  bowing  and  scraping,  and  said  his 
Marse  Brace  was  out  at  the  stile  and  wanted  his 
brother,  and  was  getting  tired  waiting  supper  for  him, 
and  would  Marse  Silas  please  tell  him  where  he  was? 
I  never  see  Uncle  Silas  speak  up  so  sharp  and  fractious 
before.  He  says : 

"Am  /  his  brother's  keeper?"  And  then  he  kind 
of  wilted  together,  and  looked  like  he  wished  he  hadn't 
spoken  so,  and  then  he  says,  very  gentle:  "  But  you 

(178) 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  179 

needn't  say  that,  Billy;  I  was  took  sudden  and  irritable, 
and  I  ain't  very  well  these  days,  and  not  hardly  respon 
sible.  Tell  him  he  ain't  here." 

And  when  the  nigger  was  gone  he  got  up  and 
walked  the  floor,  backwards  and  forwards,  mumbling 
and  muttering  to  himself  and  plowing  his  hands  through 
his  hair.  It  was  real  pitiful  to  see  him.  Aunt  Sally  she 
whispered  to  us  and  told  us  not  to  take  notice  of  him, 
it  embarrassed  him.  She  said  he  was  always  thinking 
and  thinking,  since  these  troubles  come  on,  and  she 
allowed  he  didn't  more'n  about  half  know  what  he  was 
about  when  the  thinking  spells  was  on  him ;  and  she 
said  he  walked  in  his  sleep  considerable  more  now  than 
he  used  to,  and  sometimes  wandered  around  over  the 
house  and  even  outdoors  in  his  sleep,  and  if  we  catched 
him  at  it  we  must  let  him  alone  and  not  disturb  him. 
She  said  she  reckoned  it  didn't  do  him  no  harm,  and 
may  be  it  done  him  good.  She  said  Benny  was  the 
only  one  that  was  much  help  to  him  these  days.  Said 
Benny  appeared  to  know  just  when  to  try  to  soothe 
him  and  when  to  leave  him  alone. 

So  he  kept  on  tramping  up  and  down  the  floor  and 
muttering,  till  by  and  by  he  begun  to  look  pretty  tired ; 
then  Benny  she  went  and  snuggled  up  to  his  side  and 
put  one  hand  in  his  and  one  arm  around  his  waist  and 
walked  with  him;  and  he  smiled  down  on  her,  and 
reached  down  and  kissed  her;  and  so,  little  by  little 
the  trouble  went  out  of  his  face  and  she  persuaded  him 
off  to  his  room.  They  had  very  petting  ways  together, 
and  it  was  uncommon  pretty  to  see. 
L** 


180  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

Aunt  Sally  she  was  busy  getting  the  children  ready 
for  bed ;  so  by  and  by  it  got  dull  and  tedious,  and  me 
and  Tom  took  a  turn  in  the  moonlight,  and  fetched  up 
in  the  watermelon-patch  and  et  one,  and  had  a  good 
deal  of  talk.  And  Tom  said  he'd  bet  the  quarreling 
was  all  Jubiter's  fault,  and  he  was  going  to  be  on  hand 
the  first  time  he  got  a  chance,  and  see;  and  if  it  was 
so,  he  was  going  to  do  his  level  best  to  get  Uncle  Silas 
to  turn  him  off. 

And  so  we  talked  and  smoked  and  stuffed  water 
melons  much  as  two  hours,  and  then  it  was  pretty  late, 
and  when  we  got  back  the  house  was  quiet  and  dark, 
and  everybody  gone  to  bed. 

Tom  he  always  seen  everything,  and  now  he  see  that 
the  old  green  baize  work-gown  was  gone,  and  said  it 
wasn't  gone  when  he  went  out;  so  he  allowed  it  was 
curious,  and  then  we  went  up  to  bed. 

We  could  hear  Benny  stirring  around  in  her  room, 
which  was  next  to  ourn,  and  judged  she  was  worried  a 
good  deal  about  her  father  and  couldn't  sleep.  We 
found  we  couldn't,  neither.  So  we  set  up  a  long  time, 
and  smoked  and  talked  in  a  low  voice,  and  felt  pretty 
dull  and  down-hearted.  We  talked  the  murder  and  the 
ghost  over  and  over  again,  and  got  so  creepy  and 
crawly  we  couldn't  get  sleepy  nohow  and  noway. 

By  and  by,  when  it  was  away  late  in  the  night  and  all 
the  sounds  was  late  sounds  and  solemn,  Tom  nudged 
me  and  whispers  to  me  to  look,  and  I  done  it,  and  there 
we  see  a  man  poking  around  in  the  yard  like  he  didn't 
know  just  what  he  wanted  to  do,  but  it  was  pretty  dim 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  181 

and  we  couldn't  see  him  good.  Then  he  started  for 
the  stile,  and  as  he  went  over  it  the  moon  came  out 
strong,  and  he  had  a  long-handled  shovel  over  his 
shoulder,  and  we  see  the  white  patch  on  the  old  work- 
gown.  So  Tom  says: 

"  He's  a-walking  in  his  sleep.  I  wish  we  was 
allowed  to  follow  him  and  see  where  he's  going  to. 
There,  he's  turned  down  by  the  tobacker-field.  Out 
of  sight  now.  It's  a  dreadful  pity  he  can't  rest  no 
better." 

We  waited  a  long  time,  but  he  didn't  come  back  any 
more,  or  if  he  did  he  come  around  the  other  way;  so 
at  last  we  was  tuckered  out  and  went  to  sleep  and  had 
nightmares,  a  million  of  them.  But  before  dawn  we 
was  awake  again,  because  meantime  a  storm  had  come 
up  and  been  raging,  and  the  thunder  and  lightning 
was  awful,  and  the  wind  was  a- thrashing  the  trees 
around,  and  the  rain  was  driving  down  in  slanting 
sheets,  and  the  gullies  was  running  rivers.  Tom  says : 

"  Looky  here,  Huck,  I'll  tell  you  one  thing  that's 
mighty  curious.  Up  to  the  time  we  went  out  last  night 
the  family  hadn't  heard  about  Jake  Dunlap  being  mur 
dered.  Now  the  men  that  chased  Hal  Clayton  and 
Bud  Dixon  away  would  spread  the  thing  around  in  a 
half  an  hour,  and  every  neighbor  that  heard  it  would 
shin  out  and  fly  around  from  one  farm  to  t'other  and 
try  to  be  the  first  to  tell  the  news.  Land,  they  don't 
have  such  a  big  thing  as  that  to  tell  twice  in  thirty  year ! 
Huck,  it's  mighty  strange;  I  don't  understand  it." 

So  then  he  was  in  a  fidget  for  the  rain  to  let  up,  so 


182  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

we  could  turn  out  and  run  across  some  of  the  people 
and  see  if  they  would  say  anything  about  it  to  us. 
And  he  said  if  they  did  we  must  be  horribly  surprised 
and  shocked. 

We  was  out  and  gone  the  minute  the  rain  stopped. 
It  was  just  broad  day  then.  We  loafed  along  up  the 
road,  and  now  and  then  met  a  person  and  stopped  and 
said  howdy,  and  told  them  when  we  come,  and  how  we 
left  the  folks  at  home,  and  how  long  we  was  going  to 
stay,  and  all  that,  but  none  of  them  said  a  word  about 
that  thing;  which  was  just  astonishing,  and  no  mistake. 
Tom  said  he  believed  if  we  went  to  the  sycamores  we 
would  find  that  body  laying  there  solitary  and  alone, 
and  not  a  soul  around.  Said  he  believed  the  men 
chased  the  thieves  so  far  into  the  woods  that  the  thieves 
prob'ly  seen  a  good  chance  and  turned  on  them  at  last, 
and  maybe  they  all  killed  each  other,  and  so  there 
wasn't  anybody  left  to  tell. 

First  we  knowed,  gabbling  along  that  away,  we  was 
right  at  the  sycamores.  The  cold  chills  trickled  down 
my  back  and  I  wouldn't  budge  another  step,  for  all 
Tom's  persuading.  But  he  couldn't  hold  in;  he'd  got 
to  see  if  the  boots  was  safe  on  that  body  yet.  So  he 
crope  in  —  and  the  next  minute  out  he  come  again  with 
his  eyes  bulging  he  was  so  excited,  and  says: 

<4Huck,  it's  gone!" 

I  was  astonished  !     I  says : 

II  Tom,  you  don't  mean  it." 

"It's  gone,  sure.  There  ain't  a  sign  of  it.  The 
ground  is  trampled  some,  but  if  there  was  any  blood 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  183 

it's  all  washed  away  by  the  storm,  for  it's  all  puddles 
and  slush  in  there." 

At  last  I  give  in,  and  went  and  took  a  look  myself; 
and  it  was  just  as  Tom  said  —  there  wasn't  a  sign  of  a 
corpse. 

"Bern  it,"  I  says,  "the  di'monds  is  gone.  Don't 
you  reckon  the  thieves  slunk  back  and  lugged  him  off, 
Tom?" 

"Looks  like  it.  It  just  does.  Now  where'd  they 
hide  him,  do  you  reckon?" 

"I  don't  know,"  I  says,  disgusted,  "and  what's 
more  I  don't  care.  They've  got  the  boots,  and  that's 
all  /  cared  about.  He'll  lay  around  these  woods  a 
long  time  before  /hunt  him  up." 

Tom  didn't  feel  no  more  intrust  in  him  neither,  only 
curiosity  to  know  what  come  of  him ;  but  he  said  we'd 
lay  low  and  keep  dark  and  it  wouldn't  be  long  till  the 
dogs  or  somebody  rousted  him  out. 

We  went  back  home  to  breakfast  ever  so  bothered 
and  put  out  and  disappointed  and  swindled.  I  warn't 
ever  so  down  on  a  corpse  before. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

TALKING  WITH  THE  GHOST 

IT  warn't  very  cheerful  at  breakfast.  Aunt  Sally  she 
looked  old  and  tired  and  let  the  children  snarl  and 
fuss  at  one  another  and  didn't  seem  to  notice  it  was 
going  on,  which  wasn't  her  usual  style;  me  and  Tom 
had  a  plenty  to  think  about  without  talking ;  Benny  she 
looked  like  she  hadn't  had  much  sleep,  and  whenever 
she'd  lift  her  head  a  little  and  steal  a  look  towards  her 
father  you  could  see  there  was  tears  in  her  eyes ;  and 
as  for  the  old  man,  his  things  stayed  on  his  plate  and 
got  cold  without  him  knowing  they  was  there,  I  reckon, 
for  he  was  thinking  and  thinking  all  the  time,  and  never 
said  a  word  and  never  et  a  bite. 

By  and  by  when  it  was  stillest,  that  nigger's  head 
was  poked  in  at  the  door  again,  and  he  said  his  Marse 
Brace  was  getting  powerful  uneasy  about  Marse  Jubiter, 
which  hadn't  come  home  yet,  and  would  Marse  Silas 
please  — 

He  was  looking  at  Uncle  Silas,  and  he  stopped  there, 
like  the  rest  of  his  words  was  froze ;  for  Uncle  Silas  he 
rose  up  shaky  and  steadied  himself  leaning  his  fingers 
on  the  table,  and  he  was  panting,  and  his  eyes  was  set 
on  the  nigger,  and  he  kept  swallowing,  and  put  his 

(184) 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  185 

other  hand  up  to   his  throat  a  couple  of  times,  and  at 
last  he  got  his  words  started,  and  says: 

1 '  Does  he  —  does  he  —  think  —  what  does  he  think  ! 
Tell  him  —  tell  him — "  Then  he  sunk  down  in  his 
chair  limp  and  weak,  and  says,  so  as  you  could  hardly 
hear  him :  ' '  Go  away  —  go  away  ! ' ' 

The  nigger  looked  scared  and  cleared  out,  and  we 
all  felt  — well,  I  don't  know  how  we  felt,  but  it  was 
awful,  with  the  old  man  panting  there,  and  his  eyes  set 
and  looking  like  a  person  that  was  dying.  None  of  us 
could  budge ;  but  Benny  she  slid  around  soft,  with  her 
tears  running  down,  and  stood  by  his  side,  and  nestled 
his  old  gray  head  up  against  her  and  begun  to  stroke  it 
and  pet  it  with  her  hands,  and  nodded  to  us  to  go 
away,  and  we  done  it,  going  out  very  quiet,  like  the 
dead  was  there. 

Me  and  Tom  struck  out  for  the  woods  mighty 
solemn,  and  saying  how  different  it  was  now  to  what  it 
was  last  summer  when  we  was  here  and  everything  was 
so  peaceful  and  happy  and  everybody  thought  so  much 
of  Uncle  Silas,  and  he  was  so  cheerful  and  simple- 
hearted  and  pudd'n-headed  and  good  —  and  now  look 
at  him.  If  he  hadn't  lost  his  mind  he  wasn't  much 
short  of  it.  That  was  what  we  allowed. 

It  was  a  most  lovely  day  now,  and  bright  and  sun 
shiny  ;  and  the  further  and  further  we  went  over  the 
hills  towards  the  prairie  the  lovelier  and  lovelier  the 
trees  and  flowers  got  to  be  and  the  more  it  seemed 
strange  and  somehow  wrong  that  there  had  to  be 
trouble  in  such  a  world  as  this.  And  then  all  of  a 


186  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

sudden  I  catched  my  breath  and  grabbed  Tom's  arm,  and 
all  my  livers  and  lungs  and  things  fell  down  into  my  legs. 

4 *  There  it  is!"  I  says.  We  jumped  back  behind  a 
bush  shivering,  and  Tom  says : 

"  'Sh!  —  don't  make  a  noise." 

It  was  setting  on  a  log  right  in  the  edge  of  a  little 
prairie,  thinking.  I  tried  to  get  Tom  to  come  away, 
but  he  wouldn't,  and  I  dasn't  budge  by  myself.  He 
said  we  mightn't  ever  get  another  chance  to  see  one, 
and  he  was  going  to  look  his  fill  at  this  one  if  he  died 
for  it.  So  I  looked  too,  though  it  give  me  the  fan- 
tods  to  do  it.  Tom  he  had  to  talk,  but  he  talked  low. 
He  says: 

"Poor  Jakey,  it's  got  all  its  things  on,  just  as  he 
said  he  would.  Now  you  see  what  we  wasn't  certain 
about — its  hair.  It's  not  long  now  the  way  it  was: 
it's  got  it  cropped  close  to  its  head,  the  way  he  said  he 
would.  Huck,  I  never  see  anything  look  any  more 
naturaler  than  what  It  does." 

"Nor  I  neither,"  I  says;  "I'd  recognize  it  any 
wheres." 

"So  would  I.  It  looks  perfectly  solid  and  genu- 
wyne,  just  the  way  it  done  before  it  died." 

So  we  kept  a-gazing.     Pretty  soon  Tom  says : 

"  Huck,  there's  something  mighty  curious  about  this 
one,  don't  you  know?  It  oughtn't  to  be  going  around 
in  the  daytime." 

"That's  so,  Tom  —  I  never  heard  the  like  of  it 
before." 

"  No,  sir,  they  don't  ever  come  out  only  at  night  — 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  187 

and  then  not  till  after  twelve.  There's  something 
wrong  about  this  one,  now  you  mark  my  words.  I 
don't  believe  it's  got  any  right  to  be  around  in  the 
daytime.  But  don't  it  look  natural!  Jake  was  going 
to  play  deef  and  dumb  here,  so  the  neighbors  wouldn't 
know  his  voice.  Do  you  reckon  it  would  do  that  if  we 
was  to  holler  at  it?" 

44  Lordy,  Tom,  don't  talk  so  !  If  you  was  to  holler 
at  it  I'd  die  in  my  tracks." 

44  Don't  you  worry,  I  ain't  going  to  holler  at  it. 
Look,  Huck,  it's  a-scratching  its  head  —  don't  you  see?" 

"Well,  what  of  it?" 

44  Why,  this.  What's  the  sense  of  it  scratching  its 
head?  There  ain't  anything  there  to  itch;  its  head  is 
made  out  of  fog  or  something  like  that,  and  can't  itch. 
A  fog  can't  itch;  any  fool  knows  that." 

44  Well,  then,  if  it  don't  itch  and  can't  itch,  what  in 
the  nation  is  it  scratching  it  for?  Ain't  it  just  habit, 
don't  you  reckon?" 

44  No,  sir,  I  don't.  I  ain't  a  bit  satisfied  about  the 
way  this  one  acts.  I've  a  blame  good  notion  it's  a 
bogus  one  —  I  have,  as  sure  as  I'm  a-sitting  here. 
Because,  if  it — Huck!" 

44  Well,  what's  the  matter  now?" 
4  You  can't  see  the  bushes  through  it  /" 

44  Why,  Tom,  it's  so,  sure!  It's  as  solid  as  a  cow. 
I  sort  of  begin  to  think — " 

44  Huck,  it's  biting  off  a  chaw  of  tobacker !  By 
George,  they  don't  chaw  —  they  hain't  got  anything  to 
chaw  with.  Huck ! ' ' 


188  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

11  I'm  a-listening." 

"  It  ain't  a  ghost  at  all.  It's  Jake  Dunlap  his  own 
self!" 

"  Oh  your  granny!"   I  says. 

"  Huck  Finn,  did  we  find  any  corpse  in  the  syca 
mores?" 

"No." 

11  Or  any  sign  of  one?" 

"No." 

11  Mighty  good  reason.  Hadn't  ever  been  any  corpse 
there." 

"  Why,  Tom,  you  know  we  heard — " 

"Yes,  we  did  —  heard  a  howl  or  two.  Does  that 
prove  anybody  was  killed?  Course  it  don't.  And  we 
seen  four  men  run,  then  this  one  come  walking  out  and 
we  took  it  for  a  ghost.  No  more  ghost  than  you  are. 
It  was  Jake  Dunlap  his  own  self,  and  it's  Jake  Dunlap 
now.  He's  been  and  got  his  hair  cropped,  the  way  he 
said  he  would,  and  he's  playing  himself  for  a  stranger, 
just  the  same  as  he  said  he  would.  Ghost?  Hum! — 
he's  as  sound  as  a  nut." 

Then  I  see  it  all,  and  how  we  had  took  too  much  for 
granted.  I  was  powerful  glad  he  didn't  get  killed,  and 
so  was  Tom,  and  we  wondered  which  he  would  like  the 
best  —  for  us  to  never  let  on  to  know  him,  or  how? 
Tom  reckoned  the  best  way  would  be  to  go  and  ask 
him.  So  he  started;  but  I  kept  a  little  behind,  because 
I  didn't  know  but  it  might  be  a  ghost,  after  all.  When 
Tom  got  to  where  he  was,  he  says: 

"  Me  and  Huck's    mighty  glad    to  see  you   again, 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  189 

and  you  needn't  be  afeared  we'll  tell.  And  if  you 
think  it'll  be  safer  for  you  if  we  don't  let  on  to  know 
you  when  we  run  across  you,  say  the  word  and  you'll 
see  you  can  depend  on  us,  and  would  ruther  cut  our 
hands  off  than  get  you  into  the  least  little  bit  of 
danger." 

First  off  he  looked  surprised  to  see  us,  and  not  very 
glad,  either;  but  as  Tom  went  on  he  looked  pleasanter, 
and  when  he  was  done  he  smiled,  and  nodded  his  head 
several  times,  and  made  signs  with  his  hands,  and  says : 

"  Goo-goo  —  goo-goo,"  the  way  deef  and  dummies 
does. 

Just  then  we  see  some  of  Steve  Nickerson's  people 
coming  that  lived  t'other  side  of  the  prairie,  so  Tom 
says: 

*  You  do  it  elegant ;  I  never  see  anybody  do  it 
better.  You're  right;  play  it  on  us,  too;  play  it  on 
us  same  as  the  others;  it'll  keep  you  in  practice  and 
prevent  you  making  blunders.  We'll  keep  away  from 
you  and  let  on  we  don't  know  you,  but  any  time  we 
can  be  any  help,  you  just  let  us  know." 

Then  we  loafed  along  past  the  Nickersons,  and  of 
course  they  asked  if  that  was  the  new  stranger  yonder, 
and  where'd  he  come  from,  and  what  was  his  name, 
and  which  communion  was  he,  Babtis'  or  Methodis', 
and  which  politics,  Whig  or  Democrat,  and  how  long 
is  he  staying,  and  all  them  other  questions  that  humans 
always  asks  when  a  stranger  comes,  and  animals  does, 
too.  But  Tom  said  he  warn 't  able  to  make  anything 
out  of  deef  and  dumb  signs,  and  the  same  with  goo- 


190  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

gooing.  Then  we  watched  them  go  and  bullyrag  Jake ; 
because  we  was  pretty  uneasy  for  him.  Tom  said  it 
would  take  him  days  to  get  so  he  wouldn't  forget  he 
was  a  deef  and  dummy  sometimes,  and  speak  out  be 
fore  he  thought.  When  we  had  watched  long  enough 
to  see  that  Jake  was  getting  along  all  right  and  working 
his  signs  very  good,  we  loafed  along  again,  allowing  to 
strike  the  schoolhouse  about  recess  time,  which  was  a 
three-mile  tramp. 

I  was  so  disappointed  not  to  hear  Jake  tell  about  the 
row  in  the  sycamores,  and  how  near  he  come  to  get 
ting  killed,  that  I  couldn't  seem  to  get  over  it,  and 
Tom  he  felt  the  same,  but  said  if  we  was  in  Jake's  fix 
we  would  want  to  go  careful  and  keep  still  and  not  take 
any  chances. 

The  boys  and  girls  was  all  glad  to  see  us  again,  and 
we  had  a  real  good  time  all  through  recess.  Coming 
to  school  the  Henderson  boys  had  come  across  the  new 
deef  and  dummy  and  told  the  rest ;  so  all  the  scholars 
was  chuck  full  of  him  and  couldn't  talk  about  anything 
else,  and  was  in  a  sweat  to  get  a  sight  of  him  because 
they  hadn't  ever  seen  a  deef  and  dummy  in  their  lives, 
and  it  made  a  powerful  excitement. 

Tom  said  it  was  tough  to  have  to  keep  mum  now ; 
said  we  would  be  heroes  if  we  could  come  out  and  tell 
all  we  knowed ;  but  after  all,  it  was  still  more  heroic  to 
keep  mum,  there  warn't  two  boys  in  a  million  could  do 
it.  That  was  Tom  Sawyer's  idea  about  it,  and  I 
reckoned  there  warn't  anybody  could  better  it. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

FINDING  OF  JUBITER  DUNLAP 

IN  the  next  two  or  three  days  Dummy  he  got  to  be 
powerful  popular.  He  went  associating  around  with 
the  neighbors,  and  they  made  much  of  him,  and  was 
proud  to  have  such  a  rattling  curiosity  among  them. 
They  had  him  to  breakfast,  they  had  him  to  dinner, 
they  had  him  to  supper;  they  kept  him  loaded  up 
with  hog  and  hominy,  and  warn't  ever  tired  staring  at 
him  and  wondering  over  him,  and  wishing  they  knowed 
more  about  him,  he  was  so  uncommon  and  romantic. 
His  signs  warn't  no  good;  people  couldn't  under 
stand  them  and  he  prob'ly  couldn't  himself,  but  he 
done  a  sight  of  goo-gooing,  and  so  everybody  was  sat 
isfied,  and  admired  to  hear  him  go  it.  He  toted  a 
piece  of  slate  around,  and  a  pencil;  and  people  wrote 
questions  on  it  and  he  wrote  answers ;  but  there  warn't 
anybody  could  read  his  writing  but  Brace  Dunlap. 
Brace  said  he  couldn't  read  it  very  good,  but  he  could 
manage  to  dig  out  the  meaning  most  of  the  time.  He 
said  Dummy  said  he  belonged  away  off  somers  and 
used  to  be  well  off,  but  got  busted  by  swindlers  which 
he  had  trusted,  and  was  poor  now,  and  hadn't  any  way 
to  make  a  living. 

13  (191) 


192  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

Everybody  praised  Brace  Dunlap  for  being  so  good 
to  that  stranger.  He  let  him  have  a  little  log-cabin  all 
to  himself,  and  had  his  niggers  take  care  of  it,  and  fetch 
him  all  the  vittles  he  wanted. 

Dummy  was  at  our  house  some,  because  old  Uncle 
Silas  was  so  afflicted  himself,  these  days,  that  anybody 
else  that  was  afflicted  was  a  comfort  to  him.  Me  and 
Tom  didn't  let  on  that  we  had  knowed  him  before,  and 
he  didn't  let  on  that  he  had  knowed  us  before.  The 
family  talked  their  troubles  out  before  him  the  same  as 
if  he  wasn't  there,  but  we  reckoned  it  wasn't  any  harm 
for  him  to  hear  what  they  said.  Generly  he  didn't 
seem  to  notice,  but  sometimes  he  did. 

Well,  two  or  three  days  went  along,  and  everybody 
got  to  getting  uneasy  about  Jubiter  Dunlap.  Every 
body  was  asking  everybody  if  they  had  any  idea  what 
had  become  of  him.  No,  they  hadn't,  they  said:  and 
they  shook  their  heads  and  said  there  was  something 
powerful  strange  about  it.  Another  and  another  day 
went  by;  then  there  was  a  report  got  around  that  praps 
he  was  murdered.  You  bet  it  made  a  big  stir  !  Every 
body's  tongue  was  clacking  away  after  that.  Saturday 
two  or  three  gangs  turned  out  and  hunted  the  woods  to 
see  if  they  could  run  across  his  remainders.  Me  and 
Tom  helped,  and  it  was  noble  good  times  and  exciting. 
Tom  he  was  so  brimful  of  it  he  couldn't  eat  nor  rest. 
He  said  if  we  could  find  that  corpse  we  would  be 
celebrated,  and  more  talked  about  than  if  we  got 
drownded. 

The  others  got  tired  and  give  it  up ;   but  not  Tom 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  193 

Sawyer  —  that  warn't  his  style.  Saturday  night  he 
didn't  sleep  any,  hardly,  trying  to  think  up  a  plan; 
and  towards  daylight  in  the  morning  he  struck  it.  He 
snaked  me  out  of  bed  and  was  all  excited,  and  says: 

"Quick,  Huck,  snatch  on  your  clothes  —  I've  got 
it!  Bloodhound!" 

In  two  minutes  we  was  tearing  up  the  river  road  in 
the  dark  towards  the  village.  Old  Jeff  Hooker  had  a 
bloodhound,  and  Tom  was  going  to  borrow  him.  I 
says: 

'  The  trail's  too  old,  Tom  —  and  besides,  it's  rained, 
you  know." 

"  It  don't  make  any  difference,  Huck.  If  the  body's 
hid  in  the  woods  anywhere  around  the  hound  will  find 
it.  If  he's  been  murdered  and  buried,  they  wouldn't 
bury  him  deep,  it  ain't  likely,  and  if  the  dog  goes  over 
the  spot  he'll  scent  him,  sure.  Huck,  we're  going  to 
be  celebrated,  sure  as  you're  born !" 

He  was  just  a-blazing;  and  whenever  he  got  afire  he 
was  most  likely  to  get  afire  all  over.  That  was  the  way 
this  time.  In  two  minutes  he  had  got  it  all  ciphered 
out,  and  wasn't  only  just  going  to  find  the  corpse  — 
no,  he  was  going  to  get  on  the  track  of  that  murderer 
and  hunt  him  down,  too ;  and  not  only  that,  but  he 
was  going  to  stick  to  him  till  — 

"  Well,"  I  says,  "  you  better  find  the  corpse  first;  I 
reckon  that's  a-plenty  for  to-day.  For  all  we  know, 
there  ain't  any  corpse  and  nobody  hain't  been  mur 
dered.  That  cuss  could  'a'  gone  off  somers  and  not 
been  killed  at  all." 


194  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

That  graveled  him,  and  he  says: 

"  Huck  Finn,  I  never  see  such  a  person  as  you  to 
want  to  spoil  everything.  As  long  as  you  can't  see 
anything  hopeful  in  a  thing,  you  won't  let  anybody 
else.  What  good  can  it  do  you  to  throw  cold  water  on 
that  corpse  and  get  up  that  selfish  theory  that  there 
ain't  been  any  murder?  None  in  the  world.  I  don't 
see  how  you  can  act  so.  I  wouldn't  treat  you  like 
that,  and  you  know  it.  Here  we've  got  a  noble  good 
opportunity  to  make  a  ruputation,  and  —  " 

"  Oh,  go  ahead,"  I  says.  "  I'm  sorry,  and  I  take  it 
all  back.  I  didn't  mean  nothing.  Fix  it  any  way 
you  want  it.  He  ain't  any  consequence  to  me.  If 
he's  killed,  I'm  as  glad  of  it  as  you  are;  and  if  he — " 

"  I  never  said  anything  about  being  glad  ;   I  only — " 

"Well,  then,  I'm  as  sorry  as  you  are.  Any  way 
you  druther  have  it,  that  is  the  way  /  druther  have  it. 
He—" 

"  There  ain't  any  druthers  about  it,  Huck  Finn;  no 
body  said  anything  about  druthers.  And  as  for—" 

He  forgot  he  was  talking,  and  went  tramping  along, 
studying.  He  begun  to  get  excited  again,  and  pretty 
soon  he  says : 

*•"?  V 

"  Huck,  it  '11  be  the  bulliest"  thing  that  ever  happened 
if  we  find  the  body  after  everybody  else  has  quit  look 
ing,  and  then  go  ahead  and  hunt  up  the  murderer.  It 
won't  only  be  an  honor  to  us,  but  it  '11  be  an  honor  to 
Uncle  Silas  because  it  was  us  that  done  it.  It  '11  set 
him  up  again,  you  see  if  it  don't." 

But  Old  Jeff  Hooker  he  throwed  cold  water  on  the 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  195 

whole  business  when  we  got  to  his  blacksmith  shop  and 
told  him  what  we  come  for. 

"You  can  take  the  dog,"  he  says,  "but  you  ain't 
a-going  to  find  any  corpse,  because  there  ain't  any 
corpse  to  find.  Everybody's  quit  looking,  and  they're 
right.  Soon  as  they  come  to  think,  they  knowed  there 
warn't  no  corpse.  And  I'll  tell  you  for  why.  What 
does  a  person  kill  another  person  for,  Tom  Sawyer? — 
answer  me  that." 

"Why,  he  —  er— " 

"Answer  up  !  You  ain't  no  fool.  What  does  he  kill 
him  for?  " 

"Well,  sometimes  it's  for  revenge,  and — " 
4  Wait.     One  thing  at  a  time.     Revenge,  says  you; 
and  right  you  are.     Now  who  ever  had  anything  agin 
that  poor  trifling  no-account?     Who   do   you   reckon 
would  want  to  kill  him  ? —  that  rabbit ! ' ' 

Tom  was  stuck.  I  reckon  he  hadn't  thought  of  a 
person  having  to  have  a  reason  for  killing  a  person  be 
fore,  and  now  he  sees  it  warn't  likely  anybody  would 
have  that  much  of  a  grudge  against  a  lamb  like  Jubiter 
Dunlap.  The  blacksmith  says,  by  and  by: 

'The  revenge  idea  won't  work,  you  see.  Well, 
then,  what's  next?  Robbery?  B'gosh,  that  must  'a* 
been  it,  Tom !  Yes,  sirree,  I  reckon  we've  struck  it 
this  time.  Some  feller  wanted  his  gallus-buckles,  and 
so  he—" 

But  it  was  so  funny  he  busted  out  laughing,  and  just 
went  on  laughing  and  laughing  and  laughing  till  he  was 
'most  dead,  and  Tom  looked  so  put  out  and  cheap  that 


196  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

I  knowed  he  was  ashamed  he  had  come,  and  he  wished 
he  hadn't.  But  old  Hooker  never  let  up  on  him.  He 
raked  up  everything  a  person  ever  could  want  to  kill 
another  person  about,  and  any  fool  could  see  they 
didn't  any  of  them  fit  this  case,  and  he  just  made  no 
end  of  fun  of  the  whole  business  and  of  the  people 
that  had  been  hunting  the  body ;  and  he  said : 

"  If  they'd  had  any  sense  they'd  'a'  knowed  the  lazy 
cuss  slid  out  because  he  wanted  a  loafing  spell  after  all 
this  work.  He'll  come  pottering  back  in  a  couple  of 
weeks,  and  then  how  '11  you  fellers  feel?  But,  laws 
bless  you,  take  the  dog,  and  go  and  hunt  his  re 
mainders.  Do,  Tom." 

Then  he  busted  out,  and  had  another  of  them  forty- 
rod  laughs  of  hisn.  Tom  couldn't  back  down  after  all 
this,  so  he  said,  "All  right,  unchain  him;"  and  the 
blacksmith  done  it,  and  we  started  home  and  left  that 
old  man  laughing  yet. 

It  was  a  lovely  dog.  There  ain't  any  dog  that's  got 
a  lovelier  disposition  than  a  bloodhound,  and  this  one 
knowed  us  and  liked  us.  He  capered  and  raced 
around  ever  so  friendly,  and  powerful  glad  to  be  free 
and  have  a  holiday;  but  Tom  was  so  cut  up  he  couldn't 
take  any  intrust  iahim,  and  said  he  wished  he'd  stopped 
and  thought  a  minute  before  he  ever  started  on  such  a 
fool  errand.  He  said  old  Jeff  Hooker  would  tell  every 
body,  and  we'd  never  hear  the  last  of  it. 

So  we  loafed  along  home  down  the  back  lanes,  feel 
ing  pretty  glum  and  not  talking.  When  wre  was  pass 
ing  the  far  corner  of  our  tobacker  field  we  heard  the 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  197 

dog  set  up  a  long  howl  in  there,  and  we  went  to  the 
place  and  he  was  scratching  the  ground  with  all  his 
might,  and  every  now  and  then  canting  up  his  head 
sideways  and  fetching  another  howl. 

It  was  a  long  square,  the  shape  of  a  grave ;  the  rain 
had  made  it  sink  down  and  show  the  shape.  The 
minute  we  come  and  stood  there  we  looked  at  one 
another  and  never  said  a  word.  When  the  dog  had 
dug  down  only  a  few  inches  he  grabbed  something  and 
pulled  it  up,  and  it  was  an  arm  and  a  sleeve.  Tom 
kind  of  gasped  out,  and  says : 

"  Come  away,  Huck  —  it's  found." 

I  just  felt  awful.  We  struck  for  the  road  and 
fetched  the  first  men  that  come  along.  They  got  a 
spade  at  the  crib  and  dug  out  the  body,  and  you  never 
see  such  an  excitement.  You  couldn't  make  anything 
out  of  the  face,  but  you  didn't  need  to.  Everybody 
said: 

"  Poor  Jubiter;   it's  his  clothes,  to  the  last  rag!" 

Some  rushed  off  to  spread  the  news  and  tell  the 
justice  of  the  peace  and  have  an  inquest,  and  me  and 
Tom  lit  out  for  the  house.  Tom  was  all  afire  and  'most 
out  of  breath  when  we  come  tearing  in  where  Uncle 
Silas  and  Aunt  Sally  and  Benny  was.  Tom  sung 
out: 

"  Me  and  Huck's  found  Jubiter  Dunlap's  corpse  all 
by  ourselves  with  a  bloodhound,  after  everybody  else 
had  quit  hunting  and  given  it  up;  and  if  it  hadn't  a 
been  for  us  it  never  would  'a'  been  found;  and  he  was 
murdered  too  —  they  done  it  with  a  club  or  something 


198  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

like  that;  and  I'm  going  to  start  in  and  find  the  mur 
derer,  next,  and  I  bet  I'll  do  it!" 

Aunt  Sally  and  Benny  sprung  up  pale  and  astonished, 
but  Uncle  Silas  fell  right  forward  out  of  his  chair  on  to 
the  floor  and  groans  out: 

"  Oh,  my  God,  you've  found  him  now!" 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  ARREST  OF  UNCLE  SILAS 

THEM  awful  words  froze  us  solid.  We  couldn't 
move  hand  or  foot  for  as  much  as  half  a  minute. 
Then  we  kind  of  come  to,  and  lifted  the  old  man  up 
and  got  him  into  his  chair,  and  Benny  petted  him  and 
kissed  him  and  tried  to  comfort  him,  and  poor  old 
Aunt  Sally  she  done  the  same;  but,  poor  things,  they 
was  so  broke  up  and  scared  and  knocked  out  of  their 
right  minds  that  they  didn't  hardly  know  what  they  was 
about.  With  Tom  it  was  awful;  it  'most  petrified  him 
to  think  maybe  he  had  got  his  uncle  into  a  thousand 
times  more  trouble  than  ever,  and  maybe  it  wouldn't 
ever  happened  if  he  hadn't  been  so  ambitious  to  get 
celebrated,  and  let  the  corpse  alone  the  way  the  others 
done.  But  pretty  soon  he  sort  of  come  to  himself 
again  and  says : 

11  Uncle  Silas,  don't  you  say  another  word  like  that. 
It's  dangerous,  and  there  ain't  a  shadder  of  truth  in  it." 

Aunt  Sally  and  Benny  was  thankful  to  hear  him  say 
that,  and  they  said  the  same;  but  the  old  man  he 
wagged  his  head  sorrowful  and  hopeless,  and  the  tears 
run  down  his  face,  and  he  says: 

(i99) 


200  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

"No  —  I  done  it ;  poor  Jubiter,  I  done  it !  " 

It  was  dreadful  to  hear  him  say  it.  Then  he  went 
on  and  told  about  it,  and  said  it  happened  the  day 
me  and  Tom  come  —  along  about  sundown.  He  said 
Jubiter  pestered  him  and  aggravated  him  till  he  was  so 
mad  he  just  sort  of  lost  his  mind  and  grabbed  up  a  stick 
and  hit  him  over  the  head  with  all  his  might,  and 
Jubiter  dropped  in  his  tracks.  Then  he  was  scared  and 
sorry,  and  got  down  on  his  knees  and  lifted  his  head 
up,  and  begged  him  to  speak  and  say  he  wasn't  dead; 
and  before  long  he  come  to,  and  when  he  see  who  it 
was  holding  his  head,  he  jumped  like  he  was  'most 
scared  to  death,  and  cleared  the  fence  and  tore  into  the 
woods,  and  was  gone.  So  he  hoped  he  wasn't  hurt 
bad. 

"But  laws,"  he  says,  "it  was  only  just  fear  that 
gave  him  that  last  little  spurt  of  strength,  and  of  course 
it  soon  played  out  and  he  laid  down  in  the  bush,  and 
there  wasn't  anybody  to  help  him,  and  he  died." 

Then  the  old  man  cried  and  grieved,  and  said  he  was 
a  murderer  and  the  mark  of  Cain  was  on  him,  and  he 
had  disgraced  his  family  and  was  going  to  be  found 
out  and  hung.  But  Tom  said  : 

"  No,  you  ain't  going  to  be  found  out.  You  didn't 
kill  him.  One  lick  wouldn't  kill  him.  Somebody  else 
done  it." 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  says,  "I  done  it  —  nobody  else. 
Who  else  had  anything  against  him?  Who  else  could 
have  anything  against  him?" 

He  looked  up  kind  of  like  he  hoped  some  of  us  could 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  201 

mention  somebody  that  could  have  a  grudge  against 
that  harmless  no-account,  but  of  course  it  warn't  no 
use  —  he  had  us;  we  couldn't  say  a  word.  He 
noticed  that,  and  he  saddened  down  again,  and  I  never 
see  a  face  so  miserable  and  so  pitiful  to  see.  Tom 
had  a  sudden  idea,  and  says : 

"But  hold  on! — somebody  buried  him.  Now 
who—" 

He  shut  off  sudden.  I  knowed  the  reason.  It  give 
me  the  cold  shudders  when  he  said  them  words,  because 
right  away  I  remembered  about  us  seeing  Uncle  Silas 
prowling  around  with  a  long-handled  shovel  away  in 
the  night  that  night.  And  I  knowed  Benny  seen  him, 
too,  because  she  was  talking  about  it  one  day.  The 
minute  Tom  shut  off  he  changed  the  subject  and  went 
to  begging  Uncle  Silas  to  keep  mum,  and  the  rest  of  us 
done  the  same,  and  said  he  must,  and  said  it  wasn't  his 
business  to  tell  on  himself,  and  if  he  kept  mum  nobody 
would  ever  know;  but  if  it  was  found  out  and  any 
harm  come  to  him  it  would  break  the  family's  hearts 
and  kill  them,  and  yet  never  do  anybody  any  good. 
So  at  last  he  promised.  We  was  all  of  us  more  com 
fortable,  then,  and  went  to  work  to  cheer  up  the  old 
man.  We  told  him  all  he'd  got  to  do  was  to  keep  still, 
and  it  wouldn't  be  long  till  the  whole  thing  would  blow 
over  and  be  forgot.  We  all  said  there  wouldn't  any 
body  ever  suspect  Uncle  Silas,  nor  ever  dream  of  such 
a  thing,  he  being  so  good  and  kind,  and  having  such  a 
good  character ;  and  Tom  says,  cordial  and  hearty,  he 
says : 


202  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

"Why,  just  look  at  it  a  minute;  just  consider. 
Here  is  Uncle  Silas,  all  these  years  a  preacher  —  at  his 
own  expense ;  all  these  years  doing  good  with  all  his 
might  and  every  way  he  can  think  of  —  at  his  own  ex 
pense,  all  the  time ;  always  been  loved  by  everybody, 
and  respected ;  always  been  peaceable  and  minding  his 
own  business,  the  very  last  man  in  this  whole  deestrict 
to  touch  a  person,  and  everybody  knows  it.  Suspect 
him  ?  Why,  it  ain't  any  more  possible  than — " 

* '  By  authority  of  the  State  of  Arkansaw,  I  arrest 
you  for  the  murder  of  Jubiter  Dunlap!"  shouts  the 
sheriff  at  the  door. 

It  was  awful.  Aunt  Sally  and  Benny  flung  themselves 
at  Uncle  Silas,  screaming  and  crying,  and  hugged  him 
and  hung  to  him,  and  Aunt  Sally  said  go  away,  she 
wouldn't  ever  give  him  up,  they  shouldn't  have  him, 
and  the  niggers  they  come  crowding  and  crying  to  the 
door  and- — well,  I  couldn't  stand  it;  it  was  enough  to 
break  a  person's  heart;  so  I  got  out. 

They  took  him  up  to  the  little  one-horse  jail  in  the 
village,  and  we  all  went  along  to  tell  him  good-bye; 
and  Tom  was  feeling  elegant,  and  says  to  me,  "  We'll 
have  a  most  noble  good  time  and  heaps  of  danger  some 
dark  night  getting  him  out  of  there,  Huck,  and  it  '11  be 
talked  about  everywheres  and  we  will  be  celebrated;" 
but  the  old  man  busted  that  scheme  up  the  minute  he 
whispered  to  him  about  it.  He  said  no,  it  was  his  duty 
to  stand  whatever  the  law  done  to  him,  and  he  would 
stick  to  the  jail  plumb  through  to  the  end,  even  if 
there  warn't  no  door  to  it.  It  disappointed  Tom 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  203 

and  graveled  him  a  good  deal,  but  he  had  to  put  up 
with  it. 

But  he  felt  responsible  and  bound  to  get  his  uncle 
Silas  free ;  and  he  told  Aunt  Sally,  the  last  thing,  not 
to  worry,  because  he  was  going  to  turn  in  and  work 
night  and  day  and  beat  this  game  and  fetch  Uncle  Silas 
out  innocent;  and  she  was  very  loving  to  him  and 
thanked  him  and  said  she  knowed  he  would  do  his  very 
best.  And  she  told  us  to  help  Benny  take  care  of  the 
house  and  the  children,  and  then  we  had  a  good-bye 
cry  all  around  and  went  back  to  the  farm,  and  left  her 
there  to  live  with  the  jailer's  wife  a  month  till  the  trial 
in  October. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

TOM  SAWYER  DISCOVERS  THE  MURDERERS 

WELL,  that  was  a  hard  month  on  us  all.  Poor 
Benny,  she  kept  up  the  best  she  could,  and  me 
and  Tom  tried  to  keep  things  cheerful  there  at  the 
house,  but  it  kind  of  went  for  nothing,  as  you  may  say. 
It  was  the  same  up  at  the  jail.  We  went  up  every  day 
to  see  the  old  people,  but  it  was  awful  dreary,  because 
the  old  man  warn't  sleeping  much,  and  was  walking  in 
his  sleep  considerable;  and  so  he  got  to  looking  fagged 
and  miserable,  and  his  mind  got  shaky,  and  we  all  got 
afraid  his  troubles  would  break  him  down  and  kill  him. 
And  whenever  we  tried  to  persuade  him  to  feel  cheer- 
fuler,  he  only  shook  his  head  and  said  if  we  only 
knowed  what  it  was  to  carry  around  a  murderer's  load 
on  your  heart  we  wouldn't  talk  that  way.  Tom  and  all 
of  us  kept  telling  him  it  wasn't  murder,  but  just  acci 
dental  killing,  but  it  never  made  any  difference  —  it  was 
murder,  and  he  wouldn't  have  it  any  other  way.  He 
actu'ly  begun  to  come  out  plain  and  square  towards 
trial  time  and  acknowledge  that  he  tried  to  kill  the  man. 
Why,  that  was  awful,  you  know.  It  made  things  seem 
fifty  times  as  dreadful,  and  there  warn't  no  more  com- 

(204) 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  205 

fort  for  Aunt  Sally  and  Benny.  But  he  promised  he 
wouldn't  say  a  word  about  his  murder  when  others 
was  around,  and  v/e  was  glad  of  that. 

Tom  Sawyer  racked  the  head  off  of  himself  all  that 
month  trying  to  plan  some  way  out  for  Uncle  Silas,  and 
many's  the  night  he  kept  me  up  'most  all  night  with 
this  kind  of  tiresome  work,  but  he  couldn't  seem  to  get 
on  the  right  track  no  way.  As  for  me,  I  reckoned  a 
body  might  as  well  give  it  up,  it  all  looked  so  blue  and 
I  was  so  downhearted;  but  he  wouldn't.  He  stuck  to 
the  business  right  along,  and  went  on  planning  and 
thinking  and  ransacking  his  head. 

So  at  last  the  trial  come  on,  towards  the  middle  of 
October,  and  we  was  all  in  the  court.  The  place  was 
jammed,  of  course.  Poor  old  Uncle  Silas,  he  looked 
more  like  a  dead  person  than  a  live  one,  his  eyes  was  so 
hollow  and  he  looked  so  thin  and  so  mournful.  Benny 
she  set  on  one  side  of  him  and  Aunt  Sally  on  the  other, 
and  they  had  veils  on,  and  was  full  of  trouble.  But 
Tom  he  set  by  our  lawyer,  and  had  his  finger  in  every- 
wheres,  of  course.  The  lawyer  let  him,  and  the  judge 
let  him.  He  'most  took  the  business  out  of  the  law 
yer's  hands  sometimes;  which  was  well  enough,  be 
cause  that  was  only  a  mud-turtle  of  a  back-settlement 
lawyer  and  didn't  know  enough  to  come  in  when  it 
rains,  as  the  saying  is. 

They  swore  in  the  jury,  and  then  the  lawyer  for  the 
jDIosJtitutjon  got  up  and  begun.  He  made  a  terrible 
speech  against  the  old  man,  that  made  him  moan  and 
groan,  and  made  Benny  and  Aunt  Sally  cry.  The  way 


206  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

he  told  about  the  murder  kind  of  knocked  us  all  stupid 
it  was  so  different  from  the  old  man's  tale.  He  said 
he  was  going  to  prove  that  Uncle  Silas  was  seen  to 
kill  Jubiter  Dunlap  by  two  good  witnesses,  and  done  it 
deliberate,  and  said  he  was  going  to  kill  him  the  very 
minute  he  hit  him  with  the  club ;  and  they  seen  him  hide 
Jubiter  in  the  bushes,  and  they  seen  that  Jubiter  was 
stone-dead.  And  said  Uncle  Silas  come  later  and 
lugged  Jubiter  down  into  the  tobacker  field,  and  two 
men  seen  him  do  it.  And  said  Uncle  Silas  turned  out, 
away  in  the  night,  and  buried  Jubiter,  and  a  man  seen 
him  at  it. 

I  says  to  myself,  poor  old  Uncle  Silas  has  been  lying 
about  it  because  he  reckoned  nobody  seen  him  and  he 
couldn't  bear  to  break  Aunt  Sally's  heart  and  Benny's; 
and  right  he  was:  as  for  me,  I  would  'a'  lied  the 
same  way,  and  so  would  anybody  that  had  any  feeling, 
to  save  them  such  misery  and  sorrow  which  tliey  warn't 
no  ways  responsible  for.  Well,  it  made  our  lawyer 
look  pretty  sick;  and  it  knocked  Tom  silly,  too,  for  a 
little  spell,  but  then  he  braced  up  and  let  on  that  he 
warn't  worried  —  but  I  knowed  he  was,  all  the  same. 
And  the  people  —  my,  but  it  made  a  stir  amongst 
them! 

And  when  that  lawyer  was  done  telling  the  jury  what 
he  was  going  to  prove,  he  set  down  and  begun  to  work 
his  witnesses. 

First,  he  called  a  lot  of  them  to  show  that  there  was 
bad  blood  betwixt  Uncle  Silas  and  the  diseased ;  and 
they  told  how  they  had  heard  Uncle  Silas  threaten  the 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  207 

diseased,  at  one  time  and  another,  and  how  it  got 
worse  and  worse  and  everybody  was  talking  about  it, 
and  how  diseased  got  afraid  of  his  life,  and  told  two  or 
three  of  them  he  was  certain  Uncle  Silas  would  up  and 
kill  him  some  time  or  another. 

Tom  and  our  lawyer  asked  them  some  questions; 
but  it  warn't  no  use,  they  stuck  to  what  they  said. 

Next,  they  called  up  Lem  Beebe,  and  he  took  the 
stand.  It  come  into  my  mind,  then,  how  Lem  and  Jim 
Lane  had  come  along  talking,  that  time,  about  borrow 
ing  a  dog  or  something  from  Jubiter  Dunlap ;  and  that 
brought  up  the  blackberries  and  the  lantern ;  and  that 
brought  up  Bill  and  Jack  Withers,  and  how  they  passed 
by,  talking  about  a  nigger  stealing  Uncle  Silas's  corn; 
and  that  fetched  up  our  old  ghost  that  come  along 
about  the  same  time  and  scared  us  so  —  and  here  he 
was  too,  and  a  privileged  character,  on  accounts  of  his 
being  deef  and  dumb  and  a  stranger,  and  they  had  fixed 
him  a  chair  inside  the  railing,  where  he  could  cross  his 
legs  and  be  comfortable,  whilst  the  other  people  was  all 
in  a  jam  so  they  couldn't  hardly  breathe.  So  it  all 
come  back  to  me  just  the  way  it  was  that  day;  and  it 
made  me  mournful  to  think  how  pleasant  it  was  up  to 
then,  and  how  miserable  ever  since. 

Lem  Beebe >  sworn,  said:  "  I  was  a-coming  along,  that  day,  second  of 
September,  and  Jim  Lane  was  with  me,  and  it  was  towards  sundown,  and 
we  heard  loud  talk,  like  quarrelling,  and  we  was  very  close,  only  the  hazel 
bushes  between  (that's  along  the  fence);  and  we  heard  a  voice  say,  *  I've 
told  you  more'n  once  I'd  kill  you,'  and  knowed  it  was  this  prisoner's  voice; 
and  then  we  see  a  club  come  up  above  the  bushes  and  down  out  of  sight 
again,  and  heard  a  smashing  thump  and  then  a  groan  or  two;  and  then  we 

14 


208  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

crope  soft  to  where  we  could  see,  and  there  laid  Jupiter  Dunlap  dead,  and 
this  prisoner  standing  over  him  with  the  club;  and  the  next  he  hauled  the 
dead  man  into  a  clump  of  bushes  and  hid  him,  and  then  we  stooped  low, 
to  be  out  of  sight,  and  got  away." 

Well,  it  was  awful.  It  kind  of  froze  everybody's 
blood  to  hear  it,  and  the  house  was  'most  as  still  whilst 
he  was  telling  it  as  if  there  warn't  nobody  in  it.  And 
when  he  was  done,  you  could  hear  them  gasp  and  sigh, 
all  over  the  house,  and  look  at  one  another  the  same 
as  to  say,  " Ain't  it  perfectly  terrible  —  ain't  it  awful !" 

Now  happened  a  thing  that  astonished  me.  All  the 
time  the  first  witnesses  was  proving  the  bad  blood  and 
the  threats  and  all  that,  Tom  Sawyer  was  alive  and  lay 
ing  for  them;  and  the  minute  they  was  through,  he 
went  for  them,  and  done  his  level  best  to  catch  them  in 
lies  and  spile  their  testimony.  But  now,  how  different. 
When  Lem  first  begun  to  talk,  and  never  said  anything 
about  speaking  to  Jubiter  or  trying  to  borrow  a  dog 
off  of  him,  he  was  all  alive  and  laying  for  Lem,  and  you 
could  see  he  was  getting  ready  to  cross-question  him  to 
death  pretty  soon,  and  then  I  judged  him  and  me  would 
go  on  the  stand  by  and  by  and  tell  what  we  heard  him 
and  Jim  Lane  say.  But  the  next  time  I  looked  at  Tom 
I  got  the  cold  shivers.  Why,  he  was  in  the  brownest 
study  you  ever  see  —  miles  and  miles  away.  He  warn't 
hearing  a  word  Lem  Beebe  was  saying;  and  when  he 
got  through  he  was  still  in  that  brown-study,  just  the 
same.  Our  lawyer  joggled  him,  and  then  he  looked  up 
startled,  and  says,  "  Take  the  witness  if  you  want  him. 
Lemme  alone  —  I  want  to  think." 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  209 

Well,  that  beat  me.  I  couldn't  understand  it.  And 
Benny  and  her  mother  —  oh,  they  looked  sick,  they 
was  so  troubled.  They  shoved  their  veils  to  one  side 
and  tried  to  get  his  eye,  but  it  warn't  any  use,  and  I 
couldn't  get  his  eye  either.  So  the  mud-turtle  he 
tackled  the  witness,  but  it  didn't  amount  to  nothing; 
and  he  made  a  mess  of  it. 

Then  they  called  up  Jim  Lane,  and  he  told  the  very 
same  story  over  again,  exact.  Tom  never  listened  to 
this  one  at  all,  but  set  there  thinking  and  thinking,  miles 
and  miles  away.  So  the  mud-turtle  went  in  alone 
again  and  come  out  just  as  flat  as  he  done  before.  The 
lawyer  for  the  prostitution  looked  very  comfortable, 
but  the  judge  looked  disgusted.  You  see,  Tom  was 
just  the  same  as  a  regular  lawyer,  nearly,  because  it 
was  Arkansaw  law  for  a  prisoner  to  choose  anybody  he 
wanted  to  help  his  lawyer,  and  Tom  had  had  Uncle 
Silas  shove  him  into  the  case,  and  now  he  was  botching 
it  and  you  could  see  the  judge  didn't  like  it  much. 

All  that  the  mud-turtle  got  out  of  Lem  and  Jim  was 
this  :  he  asked  them : 

"  Why  didn't  you  go  and  tell  what  you  saw?" 

*'  We  was  afraid  we  would  get  mixed  up  in  it  our 
selves.  And  we  was  just  starting  down  the  river 
a-hunting  for  all  the  week  besides ;  but  as  soon  as  we 
come  back  we  found  out  they'd  been  searching  for  the 
body,  so  then  we  went  and  told  Brace  Dunlap  all 
about  it." 

"When  was  that?" 

"  Saturday  night,  September  9th, M 
14** 


210  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

The  judge  he  spoke  up  and  says : 

"  Mr.  Sheriff,  arrest  these  two  witnesses  on  suspicions 
of  being  accessionary  after  the  fact  to  the  murder." 

The  lawyer  for  the  prostitution  jumps  up  all  excited, 
and  says: 

"Your  honor!     I  protest  against  this  extraordi — " 

"  Set  down  !"  says  the  judge,  pulling  his  bowie  and 
laying  it  on  his  pulpit.  "I  beg  you  to  respect  the 
Court." 

So  he  done  it.     Then  he  called  Bill  Withers. 

Bill  Wither s>  sworn,  said:  "I  was  coming  along  about  sundown, 
Saturday,  September  2d,  by  the  prisoner's  field,  and  my  brother  Jack  was 
with  me,  and  we  seen  a  man  toting  off  something  heavy  on  his  back  and 
allowed  it  was  a  nigger  stealing  corn;  we  couldn't  see  distinct;  next  we 
made  out  that  it  was  one  man  carrying  another:  and  the  way  it  hung,  so 
kind  of  limp,  we  judged  it  was  somebody  that  was  drunk;  and  by  the 
man's  walk  we  said  it  was  Parson  Silas,  and  we  judged  he  had  found  Sam 
Cooper  drunk  in  the  road,  which  he  was  always  trying  to  reform  him,  and 
was  toting  him  out  of  danger.5' 

It  made  the  people  shiver  to  think  of  poor  old  Uncle 
Silas  toting  off  the  diseased  down  to  the  place  in  his 
tobacker  field  where  the  dog  dug  up  the  body,  but 
there  warn't  much  sympathy  around  amongst  the  faces, 
and  I  heard  one  cuss  say,  "  'Tis  the  coldest  blooded 
work  I  ever  struck,  lugging  a  murdered  man  around 
like  that,  and  going  to  bury  him  like  a  animal,  and  him 
a  preacher  at  that. ' ' 

Tom  he  went  on  thinking,  and  never  took  no  notice ; 
so  our  lawyer  took  the  witness  and  done  the  best  he 
could,  and  it  was  plenty  poor  enough. 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  211 

Then  Jack  Withers  he  come  on  the  stand  and  told  the 
same  tale,  just  like  Bill  done. 

And  after  him  comes  Brace  Dunlap,  and  he  was  look 
ing  very  mournful,  and  most  crying;  and  there  was  a 
rustle  and  a  stir  all  around,  and  everybody  got  ready  to 
listen,  and  lots  of  the  women  folks  said,  "  Poor  cretur, 
poor  cretur,"  and  you  could  see  a  many  of  them  wip 
ing  their  eyes. 

Brace  Dunlap,  sworn,  said:  "I  was  in  considerable  trouble  a  long 
time  about  my  poor  brother,  but  I  reckoned  things  warn't  near  so  bad  as 
he  made  out,  and  I  couldn't  make  myself  believe  anybody  would  have  the 
heart  to  hurt  a  poor  harmless  cretur  like  that  " — [by  jings,  I  was  sure  I  seen 
Tom  give  a  kind  of  a  faint  little  start,  and  then  look  disappointed  again] — 
"and  you  know  I  couldn't  think  a  preacher  would  hurt  him  —  it  warn't 
natural  to  think  such  an  onlikely  thing  —  so  I  never  paid  much  attention, 
and  now  I  sha'n't  ever,  ever  forgive  myself;  for  if  I  had  a  done  different, 
my  poor  brother  would  be  with  me  this  day,  and  not  laying  yonder  mur 
dered,  and  him  so  harmless."  He  kind  of  broke  down  there  and  choked 
up,  and  waited  to  get  his  voice;  and  people  all  around  said  the  most  pitiful 
things,  and  women  cried;  and  it  was  very  still  in  there,  and  solemn,  and 
old  Uncle  Silas,  poor  thing,  he  give  a  groan  right  out  so  everybody  heard 
him.  Then  Brace  he  went  on,  "  Saturday,  September  2d,  he  didn't  come 
home  to  supper.  By-and-by  I  got  a  little  uneasy,  and  one  of  my  niggers 
went  over  to  this  prisoner's  place,  but  come  back  and  said  he  warn't  there. 
So  I  got  uneasier  and  uneasier,  and  couldn't  rest.  I  went  to  bed,  but  I 
couldn't  sleep;  and  turned  out,  away  late  in  the  night,  and  went  wander 
ing  over  to  this  prisoner's  place  and  all  around  about  there  a  good  while, 
hoping  I  would  run  across  my  poor  brother,  and  never  knowing  he  was  out 
of  his  troubles  and  gone  to  a  better  shore — "  So  he  broke  down  and 
choked  up  again,  and  most  all  the  women  was  crying  now.  Pretty  soon  he 
got  another  start  and  says:  "  But  it  warn't  no  use;  so  at  last  I  went  home 
and  tried  to  get  some  sleep,  but  couldn't.  Well,  in  a  day  or  two  everybody 
was  uneasy,  and  they  got  to  talking  about  this  prisoner's  threats,  and  took 
to  the  idea,  which  I  didn't  take  no  stock  in,  that  my  brother  was  murdered; 
so  they  hunted  around  and  tried  to  find  his  body,  but  couldn't  and  give  it 


212  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

up.  And  so  I  reckoned  he  was  gone  off  somers  to  have  a  little  peace,  and 
would  come  back  to  us  when  his  troubles  was  kind  of  healed.  But  late 
Saturday  night,  the  9th,  Lem  Beebe  and  Jim  Lane  come  to  my  house  and 
told  me  all  —  told  me  the  whole  awful  'sassination,  and  my  heart  was 
broke.  And  then  I  remembered  something  that  hadn't  took  no  hold  of  me 
at  the  time,  because  reports  said  this  prisoner  had  took  to  walking  in  his 
sleep  and  doing  all  kind  of  things  of  no  consequence,  not  knowing  what  he 
was  about.  I  will  tell  you  what  that  thing  was  that  come  back  into  my 
memory.  Away  late  that  awful  Saturday  night  when  I  was  wandering 
around  about  this  prisoner's  place,  grieving  and  troubled,  I  was  down  by 
the  corner  of  the  tobacker-field  and  I  heard  a  sound  like  digging  in  a  gritty 
soil;  and  I  crope  nearer  and  peeped  through  the  vines  that  hung  on  the 
rail  fence  and  seen  this  prisoner  shoveling — shoveling  with  a  long-handled 
shovel  —  heaving  earth  into  a  big  hole  that  was  most  filled  up;  his  back 
was  to  me,  but  it  was  bright  moonlight  and  I  knowed  him  by  his  old  green 
baize  work-gown  with  a  splattery  white  patch  in  the  middle  of  the  back 
like  somebody  had  hit  him  with  a  snowball.  He  was  burying  the  man  he^d 
murdered!  " 

And  he  slumped  down  in  his  chair  crying  and  sob 
bing,  and  'most  everybody  in  the  house  busted  out 
wailing,  and  crying,  and  saying,  "Oh,  it's  awful  — 
awful  —  horrible  !  and  there  was  a  most  tremendous  ex 
citement,  and  you  couldn't  hear  yourself  think;  and 
right  in  the  midst  of  it  up  jumps  old  Uncle  Silas,  white 
as  a  sheet,  and  sings  out : 

"I?s  true ,  every  word — /  murdered  him  in  cold 
blood!" 

By  Jackson,  it  petrified  them  !  People  rose  up  wild 
all  over  the  house,  straining  and  staring  for  a  better  look 
at  him,  and  the  judge  was  hammering  with  his  mallet 
and  the  sheriff  yelling  "  Order — order  in  the  court  — 
order!" 

And  all  the  while  the  old  man  stood  there  a-quaking 
and  his  eyes  a-burning,  and  not  looking  at  his  wife  and 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  213 

daughter,  which  was  clinging  to  him  and  begging  him 
to  keep  still,  but  pawing  them  off  with  his  hands  and 
saying  he  would  clear  his  black  soul  from  crime,  he 
would  heave  off  this  load  that  was  more  than  he  could 
bear,  and  he  wouldn't  bear  it  another  hour!  And 
then  he  raged  right  along  with  his  awful  tale,  every 
body  a-staring  and  gasping,  judge,  jury,  lawyers,  and 
everybody,  and  Benny  and  Aunt  Sally  crying  their 
hearts  out.  And  by  George,  Tom  Sawyer  never 
looked  at  him  once!  Never  once  —  just  set  there 
gazing  with  all  his  eyes  at  something  else,  I  couldn't 
tell  what.  And  so  the  old  man  raged  right  along, 
pouring  his  words  out  like  a  stream  of  fire : 

'  *  I  killed  him  !  I  am  guilty  !  But  I  never  had  the 
notion  in  my  life  to  hurt  him  or  harm  him,  spite  of  all 
them  lies  about  my  threatening  him,  till  the  very 
minute  I  raised  the  club  —  then  my  heart  went  cold  ! — 
then  the  pity  all  went  out  of  it,  and  I  struck  to  kill !  In 
that  one  moment  all  my  wrongs  come  into  my  mind ; 
all  the  insults  that  that  man  and  the  scoundrel  his 
brother,  there,  had  put  upon  me,  and  how  they  laid  in 
together  to  ruin  me  with  the  people,  and  take  away 
my  good  name,  and  drive  me  to  some  deed  that  would 
destroy  me  and  my  family  that  hadn't  ever  done  tliem 
no  harm,  so  help  me  God  !  And  they  done  it  in  a  mean 
revenge  —  for  why?  Because  my  innocent  pure  girl 
here  at  my  side  wouldn't  marry  that  rich,  insolent, 
ignorant  coward,  Brace  Dunlap,  who's  been  sniveling 
here  over  a  brother  he  never  cared  a  brass  farthing 
for  " — [I  see  Tom  give  a  jump  and  look  glad  this  time, 


214  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

to  a  dead  certainty] — "and  in  that  moment  I've  told 
you  about,  I  forgot  my  God  and  remembered  only  my 
heart's  bitterness,  God  forgive  me,  and  I  struck  to  kill. 
In  one  second  I  was  miserably  sorry  —  oh,  filled  with 
remorse ;  but  I  thought  of  my  poor  family,  and  I  must 
hide  what  I'd  done  for  their  sakes;  and  I  did  hide  that 
corpse  in  the  bushes ;  and  presently  I  carried  it  to  the 
tobacker  field ;  and  in  the  deep  night  I  went  with  my 
shovel  and  buried  it  where — " 

Up  jumps  Tom  and  shouts: 

"  Now,  I've  got  it!"  and  waves  his  hand,  oh,  ever 
so  fine  and  starchy,  towards  the  old  man,  and  says : 

"  Set  down!  A  murder  was  done,  but  you  never 
had  no  hand  in  it!" 

Well,  sir,  you  could  a  heard  a  pin  drop.  And  the 
old  man  he  sunk  down  kind  of  bewildered  in  his  seat 
and  Aunt  Sally  and  Benny  didn't  know  it,  because  they 
was  so  astonished  and  staring  at  Tom  with  their 
mouths  open  and  not  knowing  what  they  was  about. 
And  the  whole  house  the  same.  /  never  seen  people 
look  so  helpless  and  tangled  up,  and  I  hain't  ever  seen 
eyes  bug  out  and  gaze  without  a  blink  the  way  theirn 
did.  Tom  says,  perfectly  ca'm: 
'  Your  honor,  may  I  speak?" 

"  For  God's  sake,  yes  —  go  on!"  says  the  judge,  so 
astonished  and  mixed  up  he  didn't  know  what  he  was 
about  hardly. 

Then  Tom  he  stood  there  and  waited  a  second  or  two 

—  that  was  for  to  work  up  an   "  effect,"  as  he  calls  it 

—  then  he  started  in  just  as  ca'm  as  ever,  and  says: 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  215 

4<  For  about  two  weeks  now  there's  been  a  little  bill 
sticking  on  the  front  of  this  courthouse  offering  two 
thousand  dollars  reward  for  a  couple  of  big  di'monds 
—  stole  at  St.  Louis.  Them  di'monds  is  worth  twelve 
thousand  dollars.  But  never  mind  about  that  till  I  get 
to  it.  Now  about  this  murder.  I  will  tell  you  all 
about  it  —  how  it  happened  —  who  done  it  —  every 
afctail." 

You  could  see  everybody  nestle  now,  and  begin  to 
listen  for  all  they  was  worth. 

'  This  man  here,  Brace  Dunlap,  that's  been  sniveling 
so  about  his  dead  brother  that  you  know  he  never 
cared  a  straw  for,  wanted  to  marry  that  young  girl 
there,  and  she  wouldn't  have  him.  So  he  told  Uncle 
Silas  he  would  make  him  sorry.  Uncle  Silas  knowed 
how  powerful  he  was,  and  how  little  chance  he  had 
against  such  a  man,  and  he  was  scared  and  worried,  and 
done  everything  he  could  think  of  to  smooth  him  over 
arid  get  him  to  be  good  to  him :  he  even  took  his  no- 
account  brother  Jubiter  on  the  farm  and  give  him  wages 
and  stinted  his  own  family  to  pay  them ;  and  Jubiter 
done  everything  his  brother  could  contrive  to  insult 
Uncle  Silas,  and  fret  and  worry  him,  and  try  to  drive 
Uncle  Silas  into  doing  him  a  hurt,  so  as  to  injure  Uncle 
Silas  with  the  people.  And  it  done  it.  Everybody 
turned  against  him  and  said  the  meanest  kind  of  things 
about  him,  and  it  graduly  broke  his  heart  —  yes,  and 
he  was  so  worried  and  distressed  that  often  he  warn't 
hardly  in  his  right  mind. 

"Well,  on  that   Saturday  that  we've  had  so   much 


216  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

trouble  about,  two  of  these  witnesses  here,  Lem  Beebe 
and  Jim  Lane,  come  along  by  where  Uncle  Silas  and 
Jubiter  Dunlap  was  at  work  —  and  that  much  of  what 
they've  said  is  true,  the  rest  is  lies.  They  didn't  hear 
Uncle  Silas  say  he  would  kill  Jubiter;  they  didn't  hear 
no  blow  struck;  they  didn't  see  no  dead  man,  and  they 
didn't  see  Uncle  Silas  hide  anything  in  the  bushes. 
Look  at  them  now  —  how  they  set  there,  wishing  they 
hadn't  been  so  handy  with  their  tongues;  anyway, 
they'll  wish  it  before  I  get  done. 

"  That  same  Saturday  evening  Bill  and  Jack  Withers 
did  see  one  man  lugging  off  another  one.  That  much 
of  what  they  said  is  true,  and  the  rest  is  lies.  First  off 
they  thought  it  was  a  nigger  stealing  Uncle  Silas's  corn 
—  you  notice  it  makes  them  look  silly,  now,  to  find  out 
somebody  overheard  them  say  that.  That's  because 
they  found  out  by  and  by  who  it  was  that  was  doing 
the  lugging,  and  they  know  best  why  they  swore  here 
that  they  took  it  for  Uncle  Silas  by  the  gait  —  which  it 
wasn't,  and  they  knowed  it  when  they  swore  to  that  lie. 

"A  man  out  in  the  moonlight  did  see  a  murdered 
person  put  under  ground  in  the  tobacker  field  — -  but  it 
wasn't  Uncle  Silas  that  done  the  burying.  He  was  in 
his  bed  at  that  very  time. 

"Now,  then,  before  I  go  on,  I  want  to  ask  you  if 
you've  ever  noticed  this:  that  people,  when  they're 
thinking  deep,  or  when  they're  worried,  are  most  always 
doing  something  with  their  hands,  and  they  don't  know 
it,  and  don't  notice  what  it  is  their  hands  are  doing. 
Some  stroke  their  chins ;  some  stroke  their  noses ;  some 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  217 

stroke  up  under  their  chin  with  their  hand ;  some  twirl 
a  chain,  some  fumble  a  button,  then  there's  some  that 
draws  a  figure  or  a  letter  with  their  finger  on  their 
cheek,  or  under  their  chin  or  on  their  under  lip.  That's 
my  way.  When  I'm  restless,  or  worried,  or  thinking 
hard,  I  draw  capital  V's  on  my  cheek  or  on  my  under 
lip  or  under  my  chin,  and  never  anything  but  capital 
V's  —  and  half  the  time  I  don't  notice  it  and  don't 
know  I'm  doing  it." 

That  was  odd.  That  is  just  what  I  do;  only  I  make 
an  O.  And  I  could  see  people  nodding  to  one  another, 
same  as  they  do  when  they  mean  "  Thaf  s  so." 

"  Now,  then,  I'll  go  on.  That  same  Saturday —  no, 
it  was  the  night  before  —  there  was  a  steamboat  laying 
at  Flagler's  Landing,  forty  miles  above  here,  and  it 
was  raining  and  storming  like  the  nation.  And  there 
was  a  thief  aboard,  and  he  had  them  two  big  di'monds 
that's  advertised  out  here  on  this  courthouse  door; 
and  he  slipped  ashore  with  his  hand-bag  and  struck 
out  into  the  dark  and  the  storm,  and  he  was  a-hoping 
he  could  get  to  this  town  all  right  and  be  safe.  But  he 
had  two  pals  aboard  the  boat,  hiding,  and  he  knowed 
they  was  going  to  kill  him  the  first  chance  they  got  and 
take  the  di'monds;  because  all  three  stole  them,  and 
then  this  fellow  he  got  hold  of  them  and  skipped. 

;<  Well,  he  hadn't  been  gone  more'n  ten  minutes  be 
fore  his  pals  found  it  out,  and  they  jumped  ashore  and 
lit  out  after  him.  Prob'ly  they  burnt  matches  and 
found  his  tracks.  Anyway,  they  dogged  along  after 
him  all  day  Saturday  and  kept  out  of  his  sight;  and 


218  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

towards  sundown  he  come  to  the  bunch  of  sycamores 
down  by  Uncle  Silas's  field,  and  he  went  in  there  to 
get  a  disguise  out  of  his  hand-bag  and  put  it  on  before 
he  showed  himself  here  in  the  town  —  and  mind  you  he 
done  that  just  a  little  after  the  time  that  Uncle  Silas  was 
hitting  Jubiter  Dunlap  over  the  head  with  a  club  —  for 
he  did  hit  him. 

"  But  the  minute  the  pals  see  that  thief  slide  into  the 
bunch  of  sycamores,  they  jumped  out  of  the  bushes 
and  slid  in  after  him. 

'  They  fell  on  him  and  clubbed  him  to  death. 
1  Yes,  for  all  he  screamed  and  howled  so,  they  never 
had  no  mercy  on  him,  but  clubbed  him  to  death.  And 
two  men  that  was  running  along  the  road  heard  him 
yelling  that  way,  and  they  made  a  rush  into  the  syca 
more  bunch  —  which  was  where  they  was  bound  for, 
anyway  —  and  when  the  pals  saw  them  they  lit  out  and 
the  two  new  men  after  them  a-chasing  them  as  tight  as 
they  could  go.  But  only  a  minute  or  two  —  then  these 
two  new  men  slipped  back  very  quiet  into  the  syca 
mores. 

' '  Then  what  did  they  do  ?  I  will  tell  you  what  they 
done.  They  found  where  the  thief  had  got  his  disguise 
out  of  his  carpet-sack  to  put  on ;  so  one  of  them  strips 
and  puts  on  that  disguise." 

Tom  waited  a  little  here,  for  some  more  "  effect  "^ 
then  he  says,  very  deliberate: 

'  The  man  that  put  on  that  dead  man's  disguise  was 
—  Jubiter  Dunlap  !  ' ' 

"Great    Scott!"    everybody  shouted,    all  over  the 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  219 

house,  and  old  Uncle  Silas  he  looked  perfectly 
astonished. 

"Yes,  it  was  Jubiter  Dunlap.  Not  dead,  you  see. 
Then  they  pulled  off  the  dead  man's  boots  and  put 
Jubiter  Dunlap's  old  ragged  shoes  on  the  corpse  and  put 
the  corpse's  boots  on  Jubiter  Dunlap.  Then  Jubiter 
Dunlap  stayed  where  he  was,  and  the  other  man  lugged 
the  dead  body  off  in  the  twilight  ;  and  after  midnight 
he  went  to  Uncle  Silas's  house,  and  took  his  old  green 
work-robe  off  of  the  peg  where  it  always  hangs  in  the 
passage  betwixt  the  house  and  the  kitchen  and  put  it  on, 
and  stole  the  long-handled  shovel  and  went  off  down 
into  the  tobacker  field  and  buried  the  murdered  man." 

He  stopped,  and  stood  half  a  minute.     Then  — 

"And  who  do  you  reckon  the  murdered  man  was  f 
It  was —  Jake  Dunlap,  the  long-lost  burglar!" 

"Great  Scott!" 

"And  the  man  that  buried  him  was  —  Brace  Dunlap, 
his  brother!" 

"Great  Scott!" 

"And  who  do  you  reckon  is  this  mowing  idiot  here 
that's  letting  on  all  these  weeks  to  be  a  deef  and  dumb 
stranger?  It's  — Jubiter  Dunlap  !" 

My  land,  they  all  busted  out  in  a  howl,  and  you 
never  see  the  like  of  that  excitement  since  the  day  you 
was  born.  And  Tom  he  made  a  jump  for  Jubiter  and 
snaked  off  his  goggles  and  his  false  whiskers,  and  there 
was  the  murdered  man,  sure  enough,  just  as  alive  as 
anybody !  And  Aunt  Sally  and  Benny  they  went  to 
hugging  and  crying  and  kissing  and  smothering  old 


220  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

Uncle  Silas  to  that  degree  he  was  more  muddled  and 
confused  and  mushed  up  in  his  mind  than  he  ever  was 
before,  and  that  is  saying  considerable.  And  next, 
people  begun  to  yell : 

'Tom  Sawyer!  Tom  Sawyer!  Shut  up  every 
body,  and  let  him  go  on  !  Go  on,  Tom  Sawyer !" 

Which  made  him  feel  uncommon  bully,  for  it  was 
nuts  for  Tom  Sawyer  to  be  a  public  character  that- 
away,  and  a  hero,  as  he  calls  it,  So  when  it  was  all 
quiet,  he  says : 

"  There  ain't  much  left,  only  this.  When  that  man 
there,  Bruce  Dunlap,  had  most  worried  the  life  and 
sense  out  of  Uncle  Silas  till  at  last  he  plumb  lost  his 
mind  and  hit  this  other  blatherskite,  his  brother,  with  a 
club,  I  reckon  he  seen  his  chance.  Jubiter  broke  for 
the  woods  to  hide,  and  I  reckon  the  game  was  for  him 
to  slide  out,  in  the  night,  and  leave  the  country. 
Then  Brace  would  make  everybody  believe  Uncle  Silas 
killed  him  and  hid  his  body  somers ;  and  that  would 
ruin  Uncle  Silas  and  drive  him  out  of  the  country  — 
hang  him,  maybe;  I  dunno.  But  when  they  found 
their  dead  brother  in  the  sycamores  without  knowing 
him,  because  he  was  so  battered  up,  they  see  they  had 
a  better  thing;  disguise  both  and  bury  Jake  and  dig 
him  up  presently  all  dressed  up  in  Jubiter's  clothes, 
and  hire  Jim  Lane  and  Bill  Withers  and  the  others  to 
swear  to  some  handy  lies  —  which  they  done.  And 
there  they  set,  now,  and  I  told  them  they  would  be 
looking  sick  before  I  got  done,  and  that  is  the  way 
they're  looking  now. 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  221 

"Well,  me  and  Huck  Finn  here,  we  come  down  on 
the  boat  with  the  thieves,  and  the  dead  one  told  us  all 
about  the  di'monds,  and  said  the  others  would  murder 
him  if  they  got  the  chance ;  and  we  was  going  to  help 
him  all  we  could.  We  was  bound  for  the  sycamores 
when  we  heard  them  killing  him  in  there ;  but  we  was 
in  there  in  the  early  morning  after  the  storm  and 
allowed  nobody  hadn't  been  killed,  after  all.  And 
when  we  see  Jubiter  Dunlap  here  spreading  around  in 
the  very  same  disguise  Jake  told  us  he  was  going  to 
wear,  we  thought  it  was  Jake  his  own  self —  and  he  was 
goo-gooing  deef  and  dumb,  and  that  was  according  to 
agreement. 

"  Well,  me  and  Huck  went  on  hunting  for  the  corpse 
after  the  others  quit,  and  we  found  it.  And  was  proud, 
too ;  but  Uncle  Silas  he  knocked  us  crazy  by  telling  us 
he  killed  the  man.  So  we  was  mighty  sorry  we  found 
the  body,  and  was  bound  to  save  Uncle  Silas's  neck  if 
we  could;  and  it  was  going  to  be  tough  work,  too, 
because  he  wouldn't  let  us  break  him  out  of  prison  the 
way  we  done  with  our  old  nigger  Jim. 

"  I  done  everything  I  could  the  whole  month  to  think 
up  some  way  to  save  Uncle  Silas,  but  I  couldn't  strike 
a  thing.  So  when  we  come  into  court  to-day  I  come 
empty,  and  couldn't  see  no  chance  anywheres.  But 
by  and  by  I  had  a  glimpse  of  something  that  set  me 
thinking  —  just  a  little  wee  glimpse  —  only  that,  and 
not  enough  to  make  sure ;  but  it  set  me  thinking  hard 
—  and  watching,  when  I  was  only  letting  on  to  think ; 
and  by  and  by,  sure  enough,  when  Uncle  Silas  was  pil- 


222  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

ing  out  that  stuff  about  him  killing  Jubiter  Dunlap,  I 
catched  that  glimpse  again,  and  this  time  I  jumped  up 
and  shut  down  the  proceedings,  because  I  knowed 
Jubiter  Dunlap  was  a-setting  here  before  me.  I  knowed 
him  by  a  thing  which  I  seen  him  do  —  and  I  remem 
bered  it.  I'd  seen  him  do  it  when  I  was  here  a  year 
ago." 

He  stopped  then,  and  studied  a  minute  —  laying  for 
an  "effect" — I  knowed  it  perfectly  well.  Then  he 
turned  off  like  he  was  going  to  leave  the  platform,  and 
says,  kind  of  lazy  and  indifferent: 

"Well,  I  believe  that  is  all." 

Why,  you  never  heard  such  a  howl ! —  and  it  come 
from  the  whole  house : 

"  What  was  it  you  seen  him  do?  Stay  where  you 
are,  you  little  devil !  You  think  you  are  going  to 
work  a  body  up  till  his  mouth's  a-watering  and  stop 
there?  What  was  it  he  done?" 

That  was  it,  you  see  —  he  just  done  it  to  get  an 
11  effect  "  ;  you  couldn't  'a'  pulled  him  off  of  that  plat 
form  with  a  yoke  of  oxen. 

"  Oh,  it  wasn't  anything  much,"  he  says.  "  I  seen 
him  looking  a  little  excited  when  he  found  Uncle  Silas 
was  actuly  fixing  to  hang  himself  for  a  murder  that 
warn't  ever  done;  and  he  got  more  and  more  nervous 
and  worried,  I  a-watching  him  sharp  but  not  seeming 
to  look  at  him  —  and  all  of  a  sudden  his  hands  begun 
to  work  and  fidget,  and  pretty  soon  his  left  crept  up 
and  his  finger  drawed  a  cross  on  Jiis  cheek,  and  then  I 
had  him !" 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  223 

Well,  then  they  ripped  and  howled  and  stomped  and 
clapped  their  hands  till  Tom  Sawyer  was  that  proud 
and  happy  he  didn't  know  what  to  do  with  him 
self. 

And  then  the  judge  he  looked  down  over  his  pulpit 
and  says : 

"  My  boy,  did  you  see  all  the  various  details  of  this 
strange  conspiracy  and  tragedy  that  you've  been  de 
scribing?" 

"  No,  your  honor,  I  didn't  see  any  of  them." 

"Didn't  see  any  of  them!  Why,  you've  told  the 
whole  history  straight  through,  just  the  same  as  if 
you'd  seen  it  with  your  eyes.  How  did  you  manage 
that?" 

Tom  says,  kind  of  easy  and  comfortable: 

"  Oh,  just  noticing  the  evidence  and  piecing  this  and 
that  together,  your  honor;  just  an  ordinary  little  bit  of 
detective  work;  anybody  could  'a'  done  it." 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind  !  Not  two  in  a  million  could 
'a'  done  it.  You  are  a  very  remarkable  boy." 

Then  they  let  go  and  give  Tom  another  smashing 
round,  and  he  —  well,  he  wouldn't  'a'  sold  out  for  a 
silver  mine.  Then  the  judge  says : 

"  But  are  you  certain  you've  got  this  curious  history 
straight?" 

84  Perfectly,  your  honor.  Here  is  Brace  Dunlap  — 
let  him  deny  his  share  of  it  if  he  wants  to  take  the 
chance;  I'll  engage  to  make  him  wish  he  hadn't  said 
anything Well,  you  see  he's  pretty  quiet.  And 

his  brother's  pretty  quiet,  and  them  four  witnesses  that 
15 


224  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

lied  so  and  got  paid  for  it,  they're  pretty  quiet.  And 
as  for  Uncle  Silas,  it  ain't  any  use  for  him  to  put  in 
his  oar,  I  wouldn't  believe  him  under  oath!" 

Well,  sir,  that  fairly  made  them  shout;  and  even  the 
judge  he  let  go  and  laughed.  Tom  he  was  just  feeling 
like  a  rainbow.  When  they  was  done  laughing  he 
looks  up  at  the  judge  and  says : 

'  Your  honor,  there's  a  thief  in  this  house." 

"A  thief?" 

'  Yes,    sir.      And   he's  got  them    twelve-thousand- 
dollar  di'monds  on  him." 

By  gracious,  but  it  made  a  stir !  Everybody  went 
shouting: 

"Which  is  him?  which  is  him?  p'int  him  out!" 

And  the  judge  says  : 

"  Point  him  out,  my  lad.  Sheriff,  you  will  arrest 
him.  Which  one  is  it?" 

Tom  says : 
'  This  late  dead  man  here  —  Jubiter  Dunlap." 

Then  there  was  another  thundering  let-go  of  astonish 
ment  and  excitement;  but  Jubiter,  which  was  astonished 
enough  before,  was  just  fairly  putrified  with  astonish 
ment  this  time.  And  he  spoke  up,  about  half  crying, 
and  says: 

"  Now  that' s  a  lie.  Your  honor,  it  ain't  fair;  I'm 
plenty  bad  enough  without  that.  I  done  the  other 
things  —  Brace  he  put  me  up  to  it,  and  persuaded  me, 
and  promised  he'd  make  me  rich,  some  day,  and  I  done 
it,  and  I'm  sorry  I  done  it,  and  I  wisht  I  hadn't;  but  I 
hain't  stole  no  di'monds,  and  I  hain't  got  no  di'monds; 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  225 

I  wisht  I  may  never  stir  if  it  ain't  so.     The  sheriff  can 
search  me  and  see." 

Tom  says : 

'  Your  honor,  it  wasn't  right  to  call  him  a  thief,  and 
I'll  let  up  on  that  a  little.  He  did  steal  the  di'monds, 
but  he  didn't  know  it.  He  stole  them  from  his  brother 
Jake  when  he  was  laying  dead,  after  Jake  had  stole  them 
from  the  other  thieves;  but  Jubiter  didn't  know  he  was 
stealing  them;  and  he's  been  swelling  around  here  with 
them  a  month;  yes,  sir,  twelve  thousand  dollars'  worth 
of  di'monds  on  him  —  all  that  riches,  and  going  around 
here  every  day  just  like  a  poor  man.  Yes,  your  honor, 
he's  got  them  on  him  now." 

The  judge  spoke  up  and  says : 

"  Search  him,  sheriff." 

Well,  sir,  the  sheriff  he  ransacked  him  high  and  low, 
and  everywhere:  searched  his  hat,  socks,  seams,  boots, 
everything  —  and  Tom  he  stood  there  quiet,  laying  for 
another  of  them  effects  of  hisn.  Finally  the  sheriff  he 
give  it  up,  and  everybody  looked  disappointed,  and 
Jubiter  says : 

"There,  now!  what'd  I  tell  you?" 

And  the  judge  says : 

14  It  appears  you  were  mistaken  this  time,  my 
boy." 

Then  Tom  took  an  attitude  and  let  on  to  be  studying 
with  all  his  might,  and  scratching  his  head.  Then  all 
of  a  sudden  he  glanced  up  chipper,  and  says : 

"  Oh,  now  I've  got  it!     I'd  forgot." 

Which  was  a  lie,  and  I  knowed  it.     Then  he  says: 


226  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

"  Will  somebody  be  good  enough  to  lend  me  a  little 
small  screwdriver?  There  was  one  in  your  brother's 
hand-bag  that  you  smouched,  Jubiter,  but  I  reckon 
you  didn't  fetch  it  with  you." 

"No,  I  didn't.  I  didn't  want  it,  and  I  give  it 
away." 

"That  was  because  you  didn't  know  what  it  was 
for." 

Jubiter  had  his  boots  on  again,  by  now,  and  when 
the  thing  Tom  wanted  was  passed  over  the  people's 
heads  till  it  got  to  him,  he  says  to  Jubiter: 

"  Put  up  your  foot  on  this  chair."  And  he  kneeled 
down  and  begun  to  unscrew  the  heel-plate,  everybody 
watching;  and  when  he  got  that  big  di'mond  out  of 
that  boot-heel  and  held  it  up  and  let  it  flash  and  blaze 
and  squirt  sunlight  everwhichaway,  it  just  took  every 
body's  breath;  and  Jubiter  he  looked  so  sick  and  sorry 
you  never  see  the  like  of  it.  And  when  Tom  held  up 
the  other  di'mond  he  looked  sorrier  than  ever.  Land ! 
he  was  thinking  how  he  would  'a'  skipped  out  and  been 
rich  and  independent  in  a  foreign  land  if  he'd  only  had 
the  luck  to  guess  what  the  screwdriver  was  in  the 
carpet-bag  for. 

Well,  it  was  a  most  exciting  time,  take  it  all  around, 
and  Tom  got  cords  of  glory.  The  judge  took  the 
di'monds,  and  stood  up  in  his  pulpit,  and  cleared  his 
throat,  and  shoved  his  spectacles  back  on  his  head,  and 
says: 

"I'll  keep  them  and  notify  the  owners;  and  when 
they  send  for  them  it  will  be  a  real  pleasure  to  rne  to 


Tom  Sawyer,  Detective  22? 

hand  you  the  two  thousand  dollars,  for  you've  earned 
the  money  —  yes,  and  you've  earned  the  deepest  and 
most  sincerest  thanks  of  this  community  besides,  for 
lifting  a  wronged  and  innocent  family  out  of  ruin  and 
shame,  and  saving  a  good  and  honorable  man  from  a 
felon's  death,  and  for  exposing  to  infamy  and  the  pun 
ishment  of  the  law  a  cruel  and  odious  scoundrel  and  his 
miserable  creatures!" 

Well,  sir,  if  there'd  been  a  brass  band  to  bust  out 
some  music,  then,  it  would  'a'  been  just  the  perfectest 
thing  I  ever  see,  and  Tom  Sawyer  he  said  the  same. 

Then  the  sheriff  he  nabbed  Brace  Dunlap  and  his 
crowd,  and  by  and  by  next  month  the  judge  had  them 
up  for  trial  and  jailed  the  whole  lot.  And  everybody 
crowded  back  to  Uncle  Silas's  little  old  church,  and  was 
ever  so  loving  and  kind  to  him  and  the  family  and 
couldn't  do  enough  for  them;  and  Uncle  Silas  he 
preached  them  the  blamedest  jumbledest  idiotic  sermons 
you  ever  struck,  and  would  tangle  you  up  so  you 
couldn't  find  your  way  home  in  daylight;  but  the  peo 
ple  never  let  on  but  what  they  thought  it  was  the  clear 
est  and  brightest  and  elegantest  sermons  that  ever  was ; 
and  they  would  set  there  and  cry,  for  love  and  pity ; 
but,  by  George,  they  give  me  the  jim-jams  and  the  fan- 
tods  and  caked  up  what  brains  I  had,  and  turned  them 
solid  ;  but  by  and  by  they  loved  the  old  man's  intellects 
back  into  him  again,  and  he  was  as  sound  in  his  skull  as 
ever  he  was,  which  ain't  no  flattery,  I  reckon.  And 
so  the  whole  family  was  as  happy  as  birds,  and  nobody 
could  be  gratefuler  and  lovinger  than  what  they  was  to 
o*» 


228  Tom  Sawyer,  Detective 

Tom  Sawyer;  and  the  same  to  me,  though  I  hadn't 
done  nothing.  And  when  the  two  thousand  dollars 
come,  Tom  give  half  of  it  to  me,  and  never  told  any 
body  so,  which  didn't  surprise  me,  because  I  knowed 
him. 


THE  STOLEN  WHITE  ELEPHANT* 


THE  following  curious  history  was  related  to  me  by 
a  chance  railway  acquaintance.  He  was  a  gentle 
man  more  than  seventy  years  of  age,  and  his  thoroughly 
good  and  gentle  face  and  earnest  and  sincere  manner 
imprinted  the  unmistakable  stamp  of  truth  upon  every 
statement  which  fell  from  his  lips.  He  said : 

You  know  in  what  reverence  the  royal  white  elephant 
of  Siam  is  held  by  the  people  of  that  country.  You 
know  it  is  sacred  to  kings,  only  kings  may  possess  it, 
and  that  it  is,  indeed,  in  a  measure  even  superior  to 
kings,  since  it  receives  not  merely  honor  but  worship. 
Very  well;  five  years  ago,  when  the  troubles  concern 
ing  the  frontier  line  arose  between  Great  Britain  and 
Siam,  it  was  presently  manifest  that  Siam  had  been  in 
the  wrong.  Therefore  every  reparation  was  quickly 
made,  and  the  British  representative  stated  that  he 
was  satisfied  and  the  past  should  be  forgotten.  This 


*Left  out  of  "  A  Tramp  Abroad,"  because  it  was  feared  that  some  of 
the  particulars  had  been  exaggerated,  and  that  others  were  not  true.  Before 
these  suspicions  had  been  proven  groundless,  the  book  had  gone  to  press. 
—  M.  T. 

(229) 


230  The  Stolen  White  Elephant 

greatly  relieved  the  King  of  Siam,  and  partly  as  a 
token  of  gratitude,  but  partly  also,  perhaps,  to  wipe 
out  any  little  remaining  vestige  of  unpleasantness 
which  England  might  feel  toward  him,  he  wished  to 
send  the  Queen  a  present  —  the  sole  sure  way  of 
propitiating  an  enemy,  according  to  Oriental  ideas. 
This  present  ought  not  only  to  be  a  royal  one,  but 
transcendently  royal.  Wherefore,  what  offering  could 
be  so  meet  as  that  of  a  white  elephant?  My  position 
in  the  Indian  civil  service  was  such  that  I  was  deemed 
peculiarly  worthy  of  the  honor  of  conveying  the  present 
to  her  Majesty.  A  ship  was  fitted  out  for  me  and  my 
servants  and  the  officers  and  attendants  of  the  elephant, 
and  in  due  time  I  arrived  in  New  York  harbor  and 
placed  my  royal  charge  in  admirable  quarters  in  Jersey 
City.  It  was  necessary  to  remain  awhile  in  order  to 
recruit  the  animal's  health  before  resuming  the  voyage. 
All  went  well  during  a  fortnight  —  then  my  calamities 
began.  The  white  elephant  was  stolen  !  I  was  called 
up  at  dead  of  night  and  informed  of  this  fearful  mis 
fortune.  For  some  moments  I  was  beside  myself  with 
terror  and  anxiety;  I  was  helpless.  Then  I  grew 
calmer  and  collected  my  faculties.  I  soon  saw  my 
course  —  for,  indeed,  there  was  but  the  one  course  for 
an  intelligent  man  to  pursue.  Late  as  it  was,  I  flew  to 
New  York  and  got  a  policeman  to  conduct  me  to  the 
headquarters  of  the  detective  force.  Fortunately  I 
arrived  in  time,  though  the  chief  of  the  force,  the  cele 
brated  Inspector  Blunt,  was  just  on  the  point  of  leaving 
for  his  home.  He  was  a  man  of  middle  size  and  com 
pact  frame,  and  when  he  was  thinking  deeply  he  had  a 
way  of  knitting  his  brows  and  tapping  his  forehead 
reflectively  with  his  ringer,  which  impressed  you  at 
once  with  the  conviction  that  you  stood  in  the  presence 
of  a  person  of  no  common  order.  The  very  sight  of 
him  gave  me  confidence  and  made  me  hopeful.  I 


The  Stolen  White  Elephant  2}1 

stated  my  errand.  It  did  not  flurry  him  in  the  least; 
it  had  no  more  visible  effect  upon  his  iron  self- 
possession  that  if  I  had  told  him  somebody  had  stolen 
my  dog.  He  motioned  me  to  a  seat,  and  said,  calmly: 

"  Allow  me  to  think  a  moment,  please." 

So  saying,  he  sat  down  at  his  office  table  and  leaned 
his  head  upon  his  hand.  Several  clerks  were  at  work 
at  the  other  end  of  the  room ;  the  scratching  of  their 
pens  was  all  the  sound  I  heard  during  the  next  six  or 
seven  minutes.  Meantime  the  inspector  sat  there, 
buried  in  thought.  Finally  he  raised  his  head,  and 
there  was  that  in  the  firm  lines  of  his  face  which 
showed  me  that  his  brain  had  done  its  work  and  his 
plan  was  made.  Said  he  —  and  his  voice  was  low  and 
impressive : 

"This  is  no  ordinary  case.  Every  step  must  be 
warily  taken ;  each  step  must  be  made  sure  before  the 
next  is  ventured.  And  secrecy  must  be  observed  — 
secrecy  profound  and  absolute.  Speak  to  no  one 
about  the  matter,  not  even  the  reporters.  I  will  take 
care  of  them  ;  I  will  see  that  they  get  only  what  it  may 
suit  my  ends  to  let  them  know."  He  touched  a  bell; 
a  youth  appeared.  "  Alaric,  tell  the  reporters  to  re 
main  for  the  present."  The  boy  retired.  "  Now  let 
us  proceed  to  business  —  and  systematically.  Nothing 
can  be  accomplished  in  this  trade  of  mine  without  strict 
and  minute  method." 

He  took  a  pen  and  some  paper.  "  Now  —  name  of 
the  elephant?" 

"  Hassan  Ben  Ali  Ben  Selim  Abdallah  Mohammed 
Moise  Alhammal  Jamsetjejeebhoy  Dhuleep  Sultan  Ebu 
Bhudpoor." 

'  Very  well.      Given  name?" 

"Jumbo." 
'Very  well.      Place  of  birth?" 

"  The  capital  city  of  Siam." 


I 


232  The  Stolen  White  Elephant 

"  Parents  living?" 

"No  — dead." 

"  Had  they  any  other  issue  beside  this  one?" 

"  None.  He  was  an  only  child." 
'  Very  well.  These  matters  are  sufficient  under  that 
head.  Now  please  describe  the  elephant,  and  leave 
out  no  particular,  however  insignificant  —  that  is,  insig 
nificant  from  your  point  of  view.  To  men  in  my  pro 
fession  there  are  no  insignificant  particulars ;  they  dq 
not  exist." 

I  described  —  he  wrote.  When  I  was  done,  hq 
said : 

"  Now  listen.  If  I  have  made  any  mistakes,  correct 
me." 

He  read  as  follows : 

"Height,  19  feet;  length  from  apex  of  forehead  to 
insertion  of  tail,  26  feet;  length  of  trunk,  16  feet; 
length  of  tail,  6  feet;  total  length,  including  trunk  and 
tail,  48  feet;  length  of  tusks,  9*^  feet;  ears  in  keeping 
with  these  dimensions ;  footprint  resembles  the  mark 
left  when  one  up-ends  a  barrel  in  the  snow;  color  of 
the  elephant,  a  dull  white ;  has  a  hole  the  size  of  a 
plate  in  each  ear  for  the  insertion  of  jewelry,  and  pos 
sesses  the  habit  in  a  remarkable  degree  of  squirting 
water  upon  spectators  and  of  maltreating  with  his  trunk 
not  only  such  persons  as  he  is  acquainted  with,  but 
even  entire  strangers ;  limps  slightly  with  his  right  hind 
leg,  and  has  a  small  scar  in  his  left  armpit  caused  by  a 
former  boil;  had  on,  when  stolen,  a  castle  containing 
seats  for  fifteen  persons,  and  a  gold-cloth  saddle- 
blanket  the  size  of  an  ordinary  carpet." 

There  were  no  mistakes.  The  inspector  touched  the 
bell,  handed  the  description  to  Alaric,  and  said: 

'*  Have  fifty  thousand  copies  of  this  printed  at  once 
and  mailed  to  every  detective  office  and  pawnbroker's 
shop  on  the  continent."  Alaric  retired.  'There  — 


The  Stolen  White  Elephant  233 

so  far,  so  good.     Next,  I  must  have  a  photograph  of 
the  property." 

I  gave  him  one.     He  examined  it  critically,  and  said : 

"  It  must  do,  since  we  can  do  no  better;  but  he  has 
his  trunk  curled  up  and  tucked  into  his  mouth.  That 
is  unfortunate,  and  is  calculated  to  mislead,  for  of 
course  he  does  not  usually  have  it  in  that  position." 
He  touched  his  bell. 

44  Alaric,  have  fifty  thousand  copies  of  this  photo 
graph  made  the  first  thing  in  the  morning,  and  mail 
them  with  the  descriptive  circulars." 

Alaric  retired  to  execute  his  orders.  The  inspector 
said : 

"  It  will  be  necessary  to  offer  a  reward,  of  course. 
Now  as  to  the  amount?" 

"  What  sum  would  you  suggest?" 

'To  begin  with,  I  should  say  —  well,  twenty-five 
thousand  dollars.  It  is  an  intricate  and  difficult  busi 
ness  ;  there  are  a  thousand  avenues  of  escape  and  op 
portunities  of  concealment.  These  thieves  have  friends 
and  pals  everywhere — " 

"  Bless  me,  do  you  know  who  they  are?" 

The  wary  face,  practiced  in  concealing  the  thoughts 
and  feelings  within,  gave  me  no  token,  nor  yet  the 
replying  words,  so  quietly  uttered : 

"  Never  mind  about  that.  I  may,  and  I  may  not, 
We  generally  gather  a  pretty  shrewd  inkling  of  who 
our  man  is  by  the  manner  of  his  work  and  the  size  of 
the  game  he  goes  after.  We  are  not  dealing  with  a 
pickpocket  or  a  hall  thief  now,  make  up  your  mind  to 
that.  This  property  was  not  *  lifted '  by  a  novice. 
But,  as  I  was  saying,  considering  the  amount  of  travel 
which  will  have  to  be  done,  and  the  diligence  with 
which  the  thieves  will  cover  up  their  traces  as  they  move 
along,  twenty-five  thousand  may  be  too  small  a  sum 
to  offer,  yet  I  think  it  worth  while  to  start  with  that." 


234  The  Stolen  White  Elephant 

So  we  determined  upon  that  figure  as  a  beginning. 
Then  this  man,  whom  nothing  escaped  which  could  by 
any  possibility  be  made  to  serve  as  a  clew,  said : 

'  There  are  cases  in  detective  history  to  show  that 
criminals  have  been  detected  through  peculiarities  in 
their  appetites.  Now,  what  does  this  elephant  eat,  and 
how  much?" 

"Well,  as  to  what  he  eats  —  he  will  eat  anything. 
He  will  eat  a  man,  he  will  eat  a  Bible  —  he  will  eat 
anything  between  a  man  and  a  Bible." 

"  Good  —  very  good,  indeed,  but  too  general.  De 
tails  are  necessary  —  details  are  the  only  valuable  things 
in  our  trade.  Very  well  —  as  to  men.  At  one  meal  — 
or,  if  you  prefer,  during  one  day  —  how  many  men 
will  he  eat,  if  fresh?" 

"  He  would   not  care  whether  they  were  fresh   or 
not;   at  a  single  meal  he  would  eat  five  ordinary  men." 
'Very   good;    five   men;   we   will    put    that    down. 
What  nationalities  would  he  prefer?" 

"  He  is  indifferent  about  nationalities.      He  prefers 
acquaintances,  but  is  not  prejudiced  against  strangers." 
'  Very  good.    Now,  as  to  Bibles.    How  many  Bibles 
would  he  eat  at  a  meal?" 

"  He  would  eat  an  entire  edition." 

"It  is  hardly  succinct  enough.  Do  you  mean  the 
ordinary  octavo,  or  the  family  illustrated?" 

"I  think  he  would  be  indifferent  to  illustrations; 
that  is,  I  think  he  would  not  value  illustrations  above 
simple  letter-press." 

"No,  you  do  not  get  my  idea.  I  refer  to  bulk. 
The  ordinary  octavo  Bible  weighs  about  two  pounds 
and  a  half,  while  the  great  quarto  with  the  illustrations 
weighs  ten  or  twelve.  How  many  Dore  Bibles  would 
he  eat  at  a  meal?" 

"  If  you  knew  this  elephant,  you  could  not  ask.  He 
would  take  what  they  had." 


The  Stolen  White  Elephant  235 

"Well,  put  it  in  dollars  and  cents,  then.  We  must 
get  at  it  somehow.  The  Dore  costs  a  hundred  dollars 
a  copy,  Russia  leather,  beveled." 

"He  would  require  about  fifty  thousand  dollars' 
worth  —  say  an  edition  of  five  hundred  copies." 

"Now  that  is  more  exact.  I  will  put  that  down. 
Very  well;  he  likes  men  and  Bibles;  so  far,  so  good. 
What  else  will  he  eat?  I  want  particulars." 

"  He  will  leave  Bibles  to  eat  bricks,  he  will  leave 
bricks  to  eat  bottles,  he  will  leave  bottles  to  eat 
clothing,  he  will  leave  clothing  to  eat  cats,  he  will 
leave  cats  to  eat  oysters,  he  will  leave  oysters  to  eat 
ham,  he  will  leave  ham  to  eat  sugar,  he  will  leave  sugar 
to  eat  pie,  he  will  leave  pie  to  eat  potatoes,  he  will 
leave  potatoes  to  eat  bran,  he  will  leave  bran  to  eat  hay, 
he  will  leave  hay  to  eat  oats,  he  will  leave  oats  to  eat 
rice,  for  he  was  mainly  raised  on  it.  There  is  nothing 
whatever  that  he  will  not  eat  but  European  butter,  and 
he  would  eat  that  if  he  could  taste  it." 

"Very  good.  General  quantity  at  a  meal  —  say 
about — " 

"  Well,  anywhere  from  a  quarter  to  half  a  ton." 

"And  he  drinks—" 

"Everything  that  is  fluid.  Milk,  water,  whisky, 
molasses,  castor  oil,  camphene,  carbolic  acid- — it  is 
no  use  to  go  into  particulars ;  whatever  fluid  occurs  to 
you  set  it  down.  He  will  drink  anything  that  is  fluid, 
except  European  coffee." 

"  Very  good.     As  to  quantity?" 

"Put  it  down  five  to  fifteen  barrels  —  his  thirst 
varies;  his  other  appetites  do  not." 

"  These  things  are  unusual.  They  ought  to  furnish 
quite  good  clews  toward  tracing  him." 

He  touched  the  bell. 

"  Alaric,  summon  Captain  Burns." 

Burns  appeared.    Inspector  Blunt  unfolded  the  whole 


236  The  Stolen  White  Elephant 

matter  to  him,  detail  by  detail.  Then  he  said  in  the 
clear,  decisive  tones  of  a  man  whose  plans  are  clearly 
defined  in  his  head,  and  who  is  accustomed  to  com 
mand  : 

"  Captain  Burns,  detail  Detectives  Jones,  Davis, 
Halsey,  Bates,  and  Hackett  to  shadow  the  elephant/' 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Detail  Detectives  Moses,  Dakin,  Murphy,  Rogers, 
Tupper;  Higgins,  and  Bartholomew  to  shadow  the 
thieves/' 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Place   a   strong   guard  —  a  guard  of  thirty  picked 
men,    with    a   relief   of    thirty- — over   the    place    from 
whence  the   elephant   was   stolen,  to  keep  strict  watch 
there    night   and    day,  and   allow   none  to  approach  — 
except  reporters  —  without  written  authority  from  me. ' ' 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Place  detectives  in  plain  clothes  in  the  railway, 
steamship,  and  ferry  depots,  and  upon  all  roadways 
leading  out  of  Jersey  City,  with  orders  to  search  all 
suspicious  persons." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Furnish  all  these  men  with  photograph  and  accom 
panying  description  of  the  elephant,  and  instruct  them 
to  search  all  trains  and  outgoing  ferry-boats  and  other 
vessels." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  If  the  elephant  should  be  found,  let  him  be  seized, 
and  the  information  forwarded  to  me  by  telegraph." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Let  me  be  informed  at  once  if  any  clews  should  be 
found  —  footprints  of  the  animal,  or  anything  of  that 
kind." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Get  an  order  commanding  the  harbor  police  to 
patrol  the  frontages  vigilantly." 


The  Stolen  White  Elephant  237 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Despatch  detectives   in   plain  clothes  over  all  the 
railways,  north  as  far  as  Canada,  west  as  far  as  Ohio, 
south  as  far  as  Washington." 
4  Yes,  sir." 

"  Place  experts  in  all  the  telegraph  offices  to  listen 
to  all  messages;  and  let  them  require  that  all  cipher 
dispatches  be  interpreted  to  them." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Let  all  these  things  be  done  with  the  utmost 
secrecy  —  mind,  the  most  impenetrable  secrecy." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Report  to  me  promptly  at  the  usual  hour." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Go!" 

"Yes,  sir." 

He  was  gone. 

Inspector  Blunt  was  silent  and  thoughtful  a  moment, 
while  the  fire  in  his  eye  cooled  down  and  faded  out. 
Then  he  turned  to  me  and  said  in  a  placid  voice : 

"I  am  not  given  to  boasting,  it  is  not  my  habit; 
but  —  we  shall  find  the  elephant." 

I  shook  him  warmly  by  the  hand  and  thanked  him ; 
and  I  felt  my  thanks,  too.  The  more  I  had  seen  of 
the  man  the  more  I  liked  him  and  the  more  I  admired 
him  and  marveled  over  the  mysterious  wonders  of  his 
profession.  Then  we  parted  for  the  night,  and  I  went 
home  with  a  far  happier  heart  than  I  had  carried  with 
me  to  his  office. 


238  The  Stolen  White  Elephant 


II. 

NEXT  morning  it  was  all  in  the  newspapers,  in  the 
minutest  detail.  It  even  had  additions  —  consisting 
of  Detective  This,  Detective  That,  and  Detective 
The  Other's  "  Theory "  as  to  how  the  robbery  was 
done,  who  the  robbers  were,  and  whither  they  had 
flown  with  their  booty.  There  were  eleven  of  these 
theories,  and  they  covered  all  the  possibilities;  and 
this  single  fact  shows  what  independent  thinkers  detect 
ives  are.  No  two  theories  were  alike,  or  even  much 
resembled  each  other,  save  in  one  striking  particular, 
and  in  that  one  all  the  other  eleven  theories  were  abso^ 
lutely  agreed.  That  was,  that  although  the  rear  of  my 
building  was  torn  out  and  the  only  door  remained 
locked,  the  elephant  had  not  been  removed  through  the 
rent,  but  by  some  other  (undiscovered)  outlet.  All 
agreed  that  the  robbers  had  made  that  rent  only  to 
mislead  the  detectives.  That  never  would  have  oc 
curred  to  me  or  to  any  other  layman,  perhaps,  but  it 
had  not  deceived  the  detectives  for  a  moment.  Thus, 
what  I  had  supposed  was  the  only  thing  that  had  no 
mystery  about  it  was  in  fact  the  very  thing  I  had  gone 
furthest  astray  in.  The  eleven  theories  all  named  the 
supposed  robbers,  but  no  two  named  the  same  robbers: 
the  total  number  of  suspected  persons  was  thirty-seven. 
The  various  newspaper  accounts  all  closed  with  the 
most  important  opinion  of  all  —  that  of  Chief  Inspector 
Blunt.  A  portion  of  this  statement  read  as  follows : 

"The  chief  knows  who  the  two  principals  are,  namely,  'Brick'  Duffy 
and  '  Red '  McFadden.  Ten  days  before  the  robbery  was  achieved  he  was 
already  aware  that  it  was  to  be  attempted,  and  had  quietly  proceeded  to 
shadow  these  two  noted  villains;  but  unfortunately  on  the  night  in  ques- 


The  Stolen  White  Elephant  239 

tion  their  track  was  lost,  and  before  it  could  be  found  again  the  bird  was 
flown  —  that  is,  the  elephant. 

"Duffy  and  McFadden  are  the  boldest  scoundrels  in  the  profession; 
the  chief  has  reasons  for  believing  that  they  are  the  men  who  stole  the  stove 
out  of  the  detective  headquarters  on  a  bitter  night  last  winter  —  in  conse 
quence  of  which  the  chief  and  every  detective  present  were  in  the  hands  of 
the  physicians  before  morning,  some  with  frozen  feet,  others  with  frozen 
fingers,  ears,  and  other  members." 

When  I  read  the  first  half  of  that  I  was  more  aston 
ished  than  ever  at  the  wonderful  sagacity  of  this  strange 
man.  He  not  only  saw  everything  in  the  present  with 
a  clear  eye,  but  even  the  future  could  not  be  hidden 
from  him.  I  was  soon  at  his  office,  and  said  I  could 
not  help  wishing  he  had  had  those  men  arrested,  and 
so  prevented  the  trouble  and  loss ;  but  his  reply  was 
simple  and  unanswerable : 

"It  is  not  our  province  to  prevent  crime,  but  to 
punish  it.  We  cannot  punish  it  until  it  is  com 
mitted." 

I  remarked  that  the  secrecy  with  which  we  had  begun 
had  been  marred  by  the  newspapers ;  not  only  all  our 
facts  but  all  our  plans  and  purposes  had  been  revealed ; 
even  all  the  suspected  persons  had  been  named ;  these 
would  doubtless  disguise  themselves  now,  or  go  into 
hiding. 

"  Let  them.  They  will  find  that  when  I  am  ready 
for  them  my  hand  will  descend  upon  them,  in  their 
secret  places,  as  unerringly  as  the  hand  of  fate.  As  to 
the  newspapers,  we  must  keep  in  with  them.  Fame, 
reputation,  constant  public  mention  —  these  are  the 
detective's  bread  and  butter.  He  must  publish  his 
facts,  else  he  will  be  supposed  to  have  none;  he  must 
publish  his  theory,  for  nothing  is  so  strange  or  striking 
as  a  detective's  theory,  or  brings  him  so  much  wonder 
ing  respect;  we  must  publish  our  plans,  for  these  the 
journals  insist  upon  having,  and  we  could  not  deny 

16 


240  The  Stolen  White  Elephant 

them  without  offending.  We  must  constantly  show  the 
public  what  we  are  doing,  or  they  will  believe  we  are 
doing  nothing.  It  is  much  pleasanter  to  have  a  news 
paper  say,  '  Inspector  Blunt's  ingenious  and  extraordi 
nary  theory  is  as  follows/  than  to  have  it  say  some 
harsh  thing,  or,  worse  still,  some  sarcastic  one." 

"I  see  the  force  of  what  you  say.  But  I  noticed 
that  in  one  part  of  your  remarks  in  the  papers  this 
morning  you  refused  to  reveal  your  opinion  upon  a 
certain  minor  point." 

'Yes,  we  always  do  that;  it  has  a  good  effect. 
Besides,  I  had  not  formed  any  opinion  on  that  point, 
anyway." 

I  deposited  a  considerable  sum  of  money  with  the 
inspector,  to  meet  current  expenses,  and  sat  down  to 
wait  for  news.  We  were  expecting  the  telegrams  to 
begin  to  arrive  at  any  moment  now.  Meantime  I  re 
read  the  newspapers  and  also  our  descriptive  circular, 
and  observed  that  our  $2 5,000  reward  seemed  to  be 
offered  only  to  detectives.  I  said  I  thought  it  ought  to 
be  offered  to  anybody  who  would  catch  the  elephant. 
The  inspector  said : 

"  It  is  the  detectives  who  will  find  the  elephant,  hence 
the  reward  will  go  to  the  right  place.  If  other  people 
found  the  animal,  it  would  only  be  by  watching  the 
detectives  and  taking  advantage  of  clews  and  indications 
stolen  from  them,  and  that  would  entitle  the  detectives 
to  the  reward,  after  all.  The  proper  office  of  a  reward 
is  to  stimulate  the  men  who  deliver  up  their  time  and 
their  trained  sagacities  to  this  sort  of  work,  and  not  to 
confer  benefits  upon  chance  citizens  who  stumble  upon 
a  capture  without  having  earned  the  benefits  by  their 
own  merits  and  labors." 

This  was  reasonable  enough,  certainly.  Now  the 
telegraphic  machine  in  the  corner  began  to  click,  and 
the  following  dispatch  was  the  result: 


The  Stolen  White  Elephant  241 

FLOWER  STATION,  N.  Y.,  7.30  A.M. 

Have  got  a  clew.  Found  a  succession  of  deep  tracks  across  a  farm  near 
here.  Followed  them  two  miles  east  without  result;  think  elephant  went 
west.  Shall  now  shadow  him  in  that  direction. 

DARLEY,  Detective. 

"  Barley's  one  of  the  best  men  on  the  force,"  said 
the  inspector.  "We  shall  hear  from  him  again  be 
fore  long." 

Telegram  No.  2  came: 

BARKER'S,  N.  J.,  7.40  A.M. 

Just  arrived.  Glass  factory  broken  open  here  during  night,  and  eight 
hundred  bottles  taken.  Only  water  in  large  quantity  near  here  is  five  miles 
distant.  Shall  strike  for  there.  Elephant  will  be  thirsty.  Bottles  were 

empty. 

BAKER,  Detective. 

"  That  promises  well,  too,"  said  the  inspector.  "  I 
told  you  the  creature's  appetites  would  not  be  bad 
clews." 

Telegram  No»  3  : 

TAYLORVILLE,  L.  I.,  8.15  A.M. 
A  haystack   near  here   disappeared   during   night.      Probably   eaten. 

Have  got  a  clue,  and  am  off. 

HUBBARD,  Detective. 

"How  he  does  move  around!"  said  the  inspector. 
"  I  knew  we  had  a  difficult  job  on  hand,  but  we  shall 
catch  him  yet." 

FLOWER  STATION,  N.  Y.,  9  A.M. 

Shadowed  the  tracks  three  miles  westward.  Large,  deep,  and  ragged. 
Have  just  met  a  farmer  who  says  they  are  not  elephant  tracks.  Says  they 
are  holes  where  he  dug  up  saplings  for  shade-trees  when  ground  was  frozen 
last  winter.  Give  me  orders  how  to  proceed. 

DARLEY,  Detective. 

"Aha!   a  confederate   of   the    thieves!     The  thing 
grows  warm,"  said  the  inspector. 
16** 


242  The  Stolen  White  Elephant 

He  dictated  the  following  telegram  to  Darley : 

Arrest  the  man  and  force  him  to  name  his  pals.  Continue  to  follow  the 
tracks — to  the  Pacific,  if  necessary. 

Chief  BLUNT. 

Next  telegram: 

CONEY  POINT,  PA.,  8.45  A.M. 

Gas  office  broken  open  here  during  night  and  three  months'  unpaid  gas 
bills  taken.  Have  got  a  clue  and  am  away. 

MURPHY,  Detective. 

"  Heavens!"  said  the  inspector;  "  would  he  eat  gas 
bills?" 

"Through  ignorance  —  yes;  but  they  cannot  sup 
port  life.  At  least,  unassisted." 

Now  came  this  exciting  telegram : 

IRONVILLE,  N.  Y.,  9.30  A.M. 

Just  arrived.  This  village  in  consternation.  Elephant  passed  through 
here  at  five  this  morning.  Some  say  he  went  east,  some  say  west,  some 
north,  some  south  —  but  all  say  they  did  not  wait  to  notice  particularly. 
He  killed  a  horse;  have  secured  a  piece  of  it  for  a  clew.  Killed  it  with 
his  trunk;  from  style  of  blow,  think  he  struck  it  left-handed.  From  posi 
tion  in  which  horse  lies,  think  elephant  traveled  northward  along  line  of 
Berkley  railway.  Has  four  and  a  half  hours'  start,  but  I  move  on  his  track 
at  once. 

HAWES,  Detective. 

I  uttered  exclamations  of  joy.  The  inspector  was  as 
self-contained  as  a  graven  image.  He  calmly  touched 
his  bell. 

"  Alaric,  send  Captain  Burns  here." 

Burns  appeared. 

14  How  many  men  are  ready  for  instant  orders?" 

"  Ninety-six,  sir." 

14  Send  them  north  at  once.  Let  them  concentrate 
along  the  line  of  the  Berkley  road  north  of  Ironville." 

"Yes,  sir." 


The  Stolen  White  Elephant  243 

"  Let  them  conduct  their  movements  with  the  utmost 
secrecy.  As  fast  as  others  are  at  liberty,  hold  them  for 
orders." 

"Yes,  sir/1 

"Go!" 

"Yes,  sir." 

Presently  came  another  telegram : 

SAGE  CORNERS,  N.  Y.,  10.30. 

Just  arrived.  Elephant  passed  through  here  at  8.15.  All  escaped  from 
the  town  but  a  policeman.  Apparently  elephant  did  not  strike  at  police 
man,  but  at  the  lamp-post.  Got  both.  I  have  secured  a  portion  of  the 
policeman  as  clew. 

STUMM,  Detective. 

"So  the  elephant  has  turned  westward,"  said  the 
inspector.  "  However,  he  will  not  escape,  for  my  men 
are  scattered  all  over  that  region." 

The  next  telegram  said : 

GLOVER'S,  11.15. 

Just  arrived.  Village  deserted,  except  sick  and  aged.  Elephant  passed 
through  three-quarters  of  an  hour  ago.  The  anti-temperance  mass-meeting 
was  in  session;  he  put  his  trunk  in  at  a  window  and  washed  it  out  with 
water  from  cistern.  Some  swallowed  it  —  since  dead;  several  drowned. 
Detectives  Cross  and  O'Shaughnessy  were  passing  through  town,  but  going 
south  —  so  missed  elephant.  Whole  region  for  many  miles  around  in  ter 
ror —  people  flying  from  their  homes.  Wherever  they  turn  they  meet 
elephant,  and  many  are  killed. 

BRANT,  Detective. 

I  could  have  shed  tears,  this  havoc  so  distressed  me. 
But  the  inspector  only  said : 

"  You  see  —  we  are  closing  in  on  him.  He  feels  our 
presence;  he  has  turned  eastward  again." 

Yet  further  troublous  news  was  in  store  for  us.  The 
telegraph  brought  this : 

HOGANSPORT,  12.19. 

Just  arrived.     Elephant  passed  through  half  an  hour  ago,  creating  wild- 


244  The  Stolen  White  Elephant 

est  fright  and  excitement.     Elephant  raged  around  streets;    two  plumbers 
going  by,  killed  one  —  other  escaped.     Regret  general. 

O' FLAHERTY,  Detective. 

"  Now  he  is  right  in  the  midst  of  my  men,"  said  the 
inspector.  "  Nothing  can  save  him." 

A  succession  of  telegrams  came  from  detectives  who 
were  scattered  through  New  Jersey  and  Pennsylvania, 
and  who  were  following  clews  consisting  of  ravaged 
barns,  factories,  and  Sunday-school  libraries,  with  high 
hopes  —  hopes  amounting  to  certainties,  indeed.  The 
inspector  said : 

"  I  wish  I  could  communicate  with  them  and  order 
them  north,  but  that  is  impossible.  A  detective  only 
visits  a  telegraph  office  to  send  his  report ;  then  he  is 
off  again,  and  you  don't  know  where  to  put  your  hand 
on  him." 

Now  came  this  dispatch : 

BRIDGEPORT,  CT.$  12.15. 

Barnum  offers  rate  of  $4,000  a  year  for  exclusive  privilege  of  using 
elephant  as  traveling  advertising  medium  from  now  till  detectives  find 
him.  Wants  to  paste  circus-posters  on  him.  Desires  immediate  answer. 

BOGGS,  Detective. 

1  That  is  perfectly  absurd  !"  I  exclaimed. 

11  Of  course  it  is,"  said  the  inspector.  "  Evidently 
Mr.  Barnum,  who  thinks  he  is  so  sharp,  does  not  know 
me  — but  I  know  him." 

Then  he  dictated  this  answer  to  the  dispatch : 

Mr.  Barnum's  offer  declined.     Make  it  $7,000  or  nothing. 

Chief  BLUNT. 

"There.  We  shall  not  have  to  wait  long  for  an 
answer.  Mr.  Barnum  is  not  at  home;  he  is  in  the 
telegraph  office  —  it  is  his  way  when  he  has  business 
on  hand.  Inside  of  three  — " 


The  Stolen  White  Elephant  245 

DONE. —  P.  T.  BARNUM. 

So  interrupted  the  clicking  telegraphic  instrument. 
Before  I  could  make  a  comment  upon  this  extraordi 
nary  episode,  the  following  dispatch  carried  my 
thoughts  into  another  and  very  distressing  channel : 

BOLIVIA,  N.  Y.,  12.50. 

Elephant  arrived  here  from  the  south  and  passed  through  toward  the 
forest  at  11.50,  dispersing  a  funeral  on  the  way,  and  diminishing  the  mourn 
ers  by  two.  Citizens  fired  some  small  cannon-balls  into  him,  and  then  fled. 
Detective  Burke  and  I  arrived  ten  minutes  later,  from  the  north,  but  mis 
took  some  excavations  for  footprints,  and  so  lost  a  good  deal  of  time;  but 
at  last  we  struck  the  right  trail  and  followed  it  to  the  woods.  We  then  got 
down  on  our  hands  and  knees  and  continued  to  keep  a  sharp  eye  on  the 
track,  and  so  shadowed  it  into  the  brush.  Burke  was  in  advance.  Unfor 
tunately  the  animal  had  stopped  to  rest ;  therefore,  Burke  having  his  head 
down,  intent  upon  the  track,  butted  up  against  the  elephant's  hind  legs 
before  he  was  aware  of  his  vicinity.  Burke  instantly  arose  to  his,  feet, 
seized  the  tail,  and  exclaimed  joyfully,  "  I  claim  the  re — "  but  got  no  fur 
ther,  for  a  single  blow  of  the  huge  trunk  laid  the  brave  fellow's  fragments 
low  in  death.  I  fled  rearward,  and  the  elephant  turned  and  shadowed  me 
to  the  edge  of  the  wood,  making  tremendous  speed,  and  I  should  inevitably 
have  been  lost,  but  that  the  remains  of  the  funeral  providentially  intervened 
again  and  diverted  his  attention.  I  have  just  learned  that  nothing  of  that 
funeral  is  now  left;  but  this  is  no  loss,  for  there  is  abundance  of  material 
for  another.  Meantime,  the  elephant  has  disappeared  again. 

MULROONEY,  Detective. 

We  heard  no  news  except  from  the  diligent  and  con 
fident  detectives  scattered  about  New  Jersey,  Pennsyl 
vania,  Delaware,  and  Virginia  —  who  were  all  following 
fresh  and  encouraging  clews  —  until  shortly  after  2 
P.  M.,  when  this  telegram  came: 

BAXTER  CENTER,  2.15. 

Elephant  been  here,  plastered  over  with  circus-bills,  and  broke  up  a 
revival,  striking  down  and  damaging  many  who  were  on  the  point  of  enter 
ing  upon  a  better  life.  Citizens  penned  him  up  and  established  a  guard. 


246  The  Stolen  White  Elephant 

When  Detective  Brown  and  I  arrived,  some  time  after,  we  entered  enclos 
ure  and  proceeded  to  identify  elephant  by  photograph  and  description.  All 
marks  tallied  exactly  except  one,  which  we  could  not  see  —  the  boil-scar 
under  armpit.  To  make  sure,  Brown  crept  under  to  look,  and  was  imme 
diately  brained  —  that  is,  head  crushed  and  destroyed,  though  nothing 
issued  from  debris.  All  fled;  so  did  elephant,  striking  right  and  left  with 
much  effect.  Has  escaped,  but  left  bold  blood-track  from  cannon-wounds. 
Rediscovery  certain.  He  broke  southward,  through  a  dense  forest. 

BRENT,  Detective. 

That  was  the  last  telegram.  At  nightfall  a  fog  shut 
down  which  was  so  dense  that  objects  but  three  feet 
away  could  not  be  discerned.  This  lasted  all  night. 
The  ferry-boats  and  even  the  omnibuses  had  to  stop 
running. 


III. 

NEXT  morning  the  papers  were  as  full  of  detective 
theories  as  before;  they  had  all  our  tragic  facts 
in  detail  also,  and  a  great  many  more  which  they 
had  received  from  their  telegraphic  correspondents. 
Column  after  column  was  occupied,  a  third  of  its  way 
down,  with  glaring  head-lines,  which  it  made  my  heart 
sick  to  read.  Their  general  tone  was  like  this: 

"THE  WHITE  ELEPHANT  AT  LARGE!  HE  MOVES  UPON  HIS  FATAL 
MARCH!  WHOLE  VILLAGES  DESERTED  BY  THEIR  FRIGHT- STRICKEN 
OCCUPANTS!  PALE  TERROR  GOES  BEFORE  HIM,  DEATH  AND  DEVASTA 
TION  FOLLOW  AFTER!  AFTER  THESE,  THE  DETECTIVES!  BARNS  DE 
STROYED,  FACTORIES  GUTTED,  HARVESTS  DEVOURED,  PUBLIC  ASSEMBLAGES 
DISPERSED,  ACCOMPANIED  BY  SCENES  OF  CARNAGE  IMPOSSIBLE  TO  DE 
SCRIBE !  THEORIES  OF  THIRTY-FOUR  OF  THE  MOST  DISTINGUISHED  DE 
TECTIVES  ON  THE  FORCE!  THEORY  OF  CHIEF  BLUNT!" 

'There!"    said   Inspector   Blunt,    almost    betrayed 
into    excitement,   *  *  this    is    magnificent !     This    is   the 


The  Stolen  White  Elephant  247 

greatest  windfall  that  any  detective  organization  ever 
had.  The  fame  of  it  will  travel  to  the  ends  of  the 
earth,  and  endure  to  the  end  of  time,  and  my  name 
with  it." 

But  there  was  no  joy  for  me.  I  felt  as  if  I  had  com 
mitted  all  those  red  crimes,  and  that  the  elephant  was 
only  my  irresponsible  agent.  And  how  the  list  had 
grown!  In  one  place  he  had  "interfered  with  an 
election  and  killed  five  repeaters."  He  had  followed 
this  act  with  the  destruction  of  two  poor  fellows, 
named  O'Donohue  and  McFlannigan,  who  had  "  found 
a  refuge  in  the  home  of  the  oppressed  of  all  lands  only 
the  day  before,  and  were  in  the  act  of  exercising  for 
the  first  time  the  noble  right  of  American  citizens  at 
the  polls,  when  stricken  down  by  the  relentless  hand  of 
the  Scourge  of  Siam."  In  another,  he  had  "  found  a 
crazy  sensation-preacher  preparing  his  next  season's 
heroic  attacks  on  the  dance,  the  theater,  and  other 
things  which  can't  strike  back,  and  had  stepped  on 
him."  And  in  still  another  place  he  had  "killed  a 
lightning-rod  agent."  And  so  the  list  went  on,  grow 
ing  redder  and  redder,  and  more  and  more  heart 
breaking.  Sixty  persons  had  been  killed,  and  two 
hundred  and  forty  wounded.  All  the  accounts  bore 
just  testimony  to  the  activity  and  devotion  of  the  de 
tectives,  and  all  closed  with  the  remark  that  "three 
hundred  thousand  citizens  and  four  detectives  saw  the 
dread  creature,  and  two  of  the  latter  he  destroyed." 

I  dreaded  to  hear  the  telegraphic  instrument  begin 
to  click  again.  By  and  by  the  messages  began  to  pour 
in,  but  I  was  happily  disappointed  in  their  nature.  It 
was  soon  apparent  that  all  trace  of  the  elephant  was 
lost.  The  fog  had  enabled  him  to  search  out  a  good 
hiding-place  unobserved.  Telegrams  from  the  most 
absurdly  distant  points  reported  that  a  dim  vast  mass 
had  been  glimpsed  there  through  the  fog  at  such  and 


248  The  Stolen  White  Elephant 

such  an  hour,  and  was  "  undoubtedly  the  elephant." 
This  dim  vast  mass  had  been  glimpsed  in  New  Haven, 
in  New  Jersey,  in  Pennsylvania,  in  interior  New  York, 
in  Brooklyn,  and  even  in  the  city  of  New  York  itself ! 
But  in  all  cases  the  dim  vast  mass  had  vanished  quickly 
and  left  no  trace.  Every  detective  of  the  large  force 
scattered  over  this  huge  extent  of  country  sent  his 
hourly  report,  and  each  and  every  one  of  them  had  a 
clew,  and  was  shadowing  something,  and  was  hot  upon 
the  heels  of  it. 

But  the  day  passed  without  other  result. 

The  next  day  the  same. 

The  next  just  the  same. 

The  newspaper  reports  began  to  grow  monotonous 
with  facts  that  amounted  to  nothing,  clews  which  led 
to  nothing,  and  theories  which  had  nearly  exhausted 
the  elements  which  surprise  and  delight  and  dazzle. 

By  advice  of  the  inspector  I  doubled  the  reward. 

Four  more  dull  days  followed.  Then  came  a  bitter 
blow  to  the  poor,  hardworking  detectives  —  the  jour 
nalists  declined  to  print  their  theories,  and  coldly  said, 
44  Give  us  a  rest." 

Two  weeks  after  the  elephant's  disappearance  I 
raised  the  reward  to  $75,000  by  the  inspector's  ad 
vice.  It  was  a  great  sum,  but  I  felt  that  I  would  rather 
sacrifice  my  whole  private  fortune  than  lose  my  credit 
with  my  government.  Now  that  the  detectives  were  in 
adversity,  the  newspapers  turned  upon  them,  and  began 
to  fling  the  most  stinging  sarcasms  at  them.  This  gave 
the  minstrels  an  idea,  and  they  dressed  themselves  as 
detectives  and  hunted  the  elephant  on  the  stage  in  the 
most  extravagant  way.  The  caricaturists  made  pictures 
of  detectives  scanning  the  country  with  spy  glasses, 
while  the  elephant,  at  their  backs,  stole  apples  out  of 
their  pockets.  And  they  made  all  sorts  of  ridiculous 
pictures  of  the  detective  badge  —  you  have  seen  that 


The  Stolen  White  Elephant  249 

badge  printed  in  gold  on  the  back  of  detective  novels, 
no  doubt — it  is  a  wide-staring  eye,  with  the  legend, 
"WE  NEVER  SLEEP."  When  detectives  called  for  a 
drink,  the  would-be  facetious  barkeeper  resurrected  an 
obsolete  form  of  expression  and  said,  "  Will  you  have 
an  eye-opener?"  All  the  air  was  thick  with  sar 
casms. 

But  there  was  one  man  who  moved  calm,  untouched, 
unaffected,  through  it  all.  It  was  that  heart  of  oak, 
the  chief  inspector.  His  brave  eye  never  drooped,  his 
serene  confidence  never  wavered.  He  always  said  : 

'  *  Let  them  rail  on ;  he  laughs  best  who  laughs 
last." 

My  admiration  for  the  man  grew  into  a  species  of 
worship.  I  was  at  his  side  always.  His  office  had  be 
come  an  unpleasant  place  to  me,  and  now  became  daily 
more  and  more  so.  Yet  if  he  could  endure  it  I  meant 
to  do  so  also  —  at  least,  as  long  as  I  could.  So  I 
came  regularly,  and  stayed  —  the  only  outsider  who 
seemed  to  be  capable  of  it.  Everybody  wondered  how 
I  could ;  and  often  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  must  desert, 
but  at  such  times  I  looked  into  that  calm  and  apparently 
unconscious  face,  and  held  my  ground. 

About  three  weeks  after  the  elephant's  disappearance 
I  was  about  to  say,  one  morning,  that  I  should  have  to 
strike  my  colors  and  retire,  when  the  great  detective 
arrested  the  thought  by  proposing  one  more  superb 
and  masterly  move. 

This  was  to  compromise  with  the  robbers.  The 
fertility  of  this  man's  invention  exceeded  anything  I 
have  ever  seen,  and  I  have  had  a  wide  intercourse  with 
the  world's  finest  minds.  He  said  he  was  confident  he 
could  compromise  for  $100,000  and  recover  the  ele 
phant.  I  said  I  believed  I  could  scrape  the  amount 
together,  but  what  would  become  of  the  poor  detec 
tives  who  had  worked  so  faithfully?  He  said: 


250  The  Stolen  White  Elephant 

11  In  compromises  they  always  get  half." 
This  removed  my  only  objection.     So  the  inspector 
wrote  two  notes,  in  this  form : 

DEAR  MADAM, —  Your  husband  can  make  a  large  sum  of  money  (and 
be  entirely  protected  from  the  law)  by  making  an  immediate  appointment 
with  me. 

Chief  BLUNT. 

He  sent  one  of  these  by  his  confidential  messenger 
to  the  "  reputed  wife"  of  Brick  Duffy,  and  the  other 
to  the  reputed  wife  of  Red  McFadden. 

Within  the  hour  these  offensive  answers  came : 

YE  OWLD  FOOL  :    brick  McDuffys  bin  ded  2  yere. 

BRIDGET  MAHONEY. 

CHIEF  BAT, —  Red  McFadden  is  hung  and  in  heving  18  month.  Any 
Ass  but  a  detective  knose  that. 

MARY  O' HOOLIGAN. 

"I  had  long  suspected  these  facts,"  said  the  in 
spector  ;  ' '  this  testimony  proves  the  unerring  accuracy 
of  my  instinct." 

The  moment  one  resource  failed  him  he  was  ready 
with  another.  He  immediately  wrote  an  advertisement 
for  the  morning  papers,  and  I  kept  a  copy  of  it : 

A. —  xwblv.  242  N.  Tjnd  —  fz328wmlg.     Ozpo, — ;   2m!  ogw.    Mum. 

He  said  that  if  the  thief  was  alive  this  would  bring 
him  to  the  usual  rendezvous.  He  further  explained 
that  the  usual  rendezvous  was  a  place  where  all  busi 
ness  affairs  between  detectives  and  criminals  were  con 
ducted.  This  meeting  would  take  place  at  twelve  the 
next  night. 

We  could  do  nothing  till  then,  and  I  lost  no  time  in 
getting  out  of  the  office,  and  was  grateful  indeed  for 
the  privilege. 

At   ii   the   next  night  I  brought  $100,000  in  bank 


The  Stolen  White  Elephant  251 

notes  and  put  them  into  the  chief's  hands,  and  shortly 
afterward  he  took  his  leave,  with  the  brave  old  un- 
dimmed  confidence  m  his  eye.  An  almost  intolerable 
hour  dragged  to  a  close ;  then  I  heard  his  welcome 
tread,  and  rose  gasping  and  tottered  to  meet  him. 
How  his  fine  eyes  flamed  with  triumph  !  He  said  ; 

"We've  compromised!  The  jokers  will  sing  a  dif 
ferent  tune  to-morrow!  Follow  me!" 

He  took  a  lighted  candle  and  strode  down  into  the 
vast  vaulted  basement  where  sixty  detectives  always 
slept,  and  where  a  score  were  now  playing  cards  to 
while  the  time.  I  followed  close  after  him.  He 
walked  swiftly  down  to  the  dim  and  remote  end  of  the 
place,  and  just  as  I  succumbed  to  the  pangs  of  suffoca 
tion  and  was  swooning  away  he  stumbled  and  fell  over 
the  outlying  members  of  a  mighty  object,  and  I  heard 
him  exclaim  as  he  went  down : 

44  Our  noble  profession  is  vindicated.  Here  is  your 
elephant!" 

I  was  carried  to  the  office  above  and  restored  with 
carbolic  acid.  The  whole  detective  force  swarmed  in, 
and  such  another  season  of  triumphant  rejoicing  ensued 
as  I  had  never  witnessed  before.  The  reporters  were 
called,  baskets  of  champagne  were  opened,  toasts  were 
drunk,  the  handshakings  and  congratulations  were  con 
tinuous  and  enthusiastic.  Naturally  the  chief  was  the 
hero  of  the  hour,  and  his  happiness  was  so  complete 
and  had  been  so  patiently  and  worthily  and  bravely 
won  that  it  made  me  happy  to  see  it,  though  I  stood 
there  a  homeless  beggar,  my  priceless  charge  dead, 
and  my  position  in  my  country's  service  lost  to  me 
through  what  would  always  seem  my  fatally  careless 
execution  of  a  great  trust.  Many  an  eloquent  eye 
testified  its  deep  admiration  for  the  chief,  and  many  a 
detective's  voice  murmured,  ''Look  at  him  —  just  the 
king  of  the  profession;  only  give  him  a  clew,  it's  all 


252  The  Stolen  White  Elephant" 

he  wants,  and  there  ain't  anything  hid  that  he  can't 
find."  The  dividing  of  the  $50,000  made  great  pleas 
ure  ;  when  it  was  finished  the  chief  made  a  little  speech 
while  he  put  his  share  in  his  pocket,  in  which  he  said, 
14  Enjoy  it,  boys,  for  you've  earned  it;  and  more  than 
that  you've  earned  for  the  detective  profession  undying 
fame.'? 

A  telegram  arrived,  which  read: 

MONROE,  MICH.,  10  P.M. 

First  time  I've  struck  a  telegraph  office  in  over  three  weeks.  Have 
followed  those  footprints,  horseback,  through  the  woods,  a  thousand  miles 
to  here,  and  they  get  stronger  and  bigger  and  fresher  every  day.  Don't 
worry — inside  of  another  week  I'll  have  the  elephant.  This  is  dead  sure. 

DARLEY,  Detective. 

The  chief  ordered  three  cheers  for  '*  Darley,  one  of 
the  finest  minds  on  the  force,"  and  then  commanded 
that  he  be  telegraphed  to  come  home  and  receive  his 
share  of  the  reward. 

So  ended  that  marvelous  episode  of  the  stolen  ele 
phant.  The  newspapers  were  pleasant  with  praises 
once  more,  the  next  day,  with  one  contemptible  excep 
tion.  This  sheet  said,  "Great  is  the  detective!  He 
may  be  a  little  slow  in  finding  a  little  thing  like  a  mis 
laid  elephant  —  he  may  hunt  him  all  day  and  sleep 
with  his  rotting  carcass  all  night  for  three  weeks,  but 
he  will  find  him  at  last  —  if  he  can  get  the  man  who 
mislaid  him  to  show  him  the  place  !" 

Poor  Hassan  was  lost  to  me  forever.  The  cannon- 
shots  had  wounded  him  fatally,  he  had  crept  to  that 
unfriendly  place  in  the  fog,  and  there,  surrounded  by 
his  enemies  and  in  constant  danger  of  detection,  he  had 
wasted  away  with  hunger  and  suffering  till  death  gave 
him  peace. 

The  compromise  cost  me  $100,000;  my  detective 
expenses  were  $42,000  more;  I  never  applied  for  a 


The  Stolen  White  Elephant  253 

place  again  under  my  government;  I  am  a  ruined  man 
and  a  wanderer  in  the  earth  —  but  my  admiration  for 
that  man,  whom  I  believe  to  be  the  greatest  detective 
the  world  has  ever  produced,  remains  undimmed  to  this 
day,  and  will  so  remain  unto  the  end. 


SOME    RAMBLING    NOTES    OF    AN    IDLE 
EXCURSION 


I. 

ALL  the  journeyings  I  had  ever  done  had  been 
purely  in  the  way  of  business.  The  pleasant  May 
weather  suggested  a  novelty  —  namely,  a  trip  for  pure 
recreation,  the  bread-and-butter  element  left  out.  The 
Reverend  said  he  would  go,  too;  a  good  man,  one  of 
the  best  of  men,  although  a  clergyman.  By  eleven  at 
night  we  were  in  New  Haven  and  on  board  the  New 
York  boat.  We  bought  our  tickets,  and  then  went 
wandering  around  here  and  there,  in  the  solid  comfort 
of  being  free  and  idle,  and  of  putting  distance  between 
ourselves  and  the  mails  and  telegraphs. 

After  a  while  I  went  to  my  stateroom  and  undressed, 
but  the  night  was  too  enticing  for  bed.  We  were 
moving  down  the  bay  now,  and  it  was  pleasant  to  stand 
at  the  window  and  take  the  cool  night  breeze  and  watch 
the  gliding  lights  on  shore.  Presently,  two  elderly  men 
sat  down  under  that  window  and  began  a  conversation. 
Their  talk  was  properly  no  business  of  mine,  yet  I  was 
feeling  friendly  toward  the  world  and  willing  to  be 
entertained.  I  soon  gathered  that  they  were  brothers, 
that  they  were  from  a  small  Connecticut  village,  and 
that  the  matter  in  hand  concerned  the  cemetery.  Said 
one : 

(254) 


Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion  255 

"  Now,  John,  we  talked  it  all  over  amongst  ourselves, 
and  this  is  what  we've  done.  You  see,  everybody  was 
a-movin'  from  the  old  buryin'  ground,  and  our  folks 
was  'most  about  left  to  theirselves,  as  you  may  say. 
They  was  crowded,  too,  as  you  know;  lot  wa'n't  big 
enough  in  the  first  place;  and  last  year,  when  Seth's 
wife  died,  we  couldn't  hardly  tuck  her  in.  She  sort  o' 
overlaid  Deacon  Shorb's  lot,  and  he  soured  on  her,  so 
to  speak,  and  on  the  rest  of  us,  too.  So  we  talked  it 
over,  and  I  was  for  a  lay-out  in  the  new  simitery  on 
the  hill.  They  wa'n't  unwilling,  if  it  was  cheap. 
Well,  the  two  best  and  biggest  plots  was  No.  8  and 
No.  9  —  both  of  a  size;  nice  comfortable  room  for 
twenty-six  —  twenty-six  full-growns,  that  is;  but  you 
reckon  in  children  and  other  shorts,  and  strike  an 
everage,  and  I  should  say  you  might  lay  in  thirty,  or 
may  be  thirty-two  or  three,  pretty  genteel  —  no  crowd- 
in'  to  signify." 

"That's  a  plenty,  William.  Which  one  did  you 
buy?" 

"Well,  I'm  a-comin'  to  that,  John.  You  see,  No. 
8  was  thirteen  dollars,  No.  9  fourteen — " 

"  I  see.      So's't  you  took  No.  8." 

"You  wait.  I  took  No,  9.  And  I'll  tell  you  for 
why.  In  the  first  place,  Deacon  Shorb  wanted  it. 
Well,  after  the  way  he'd  gone  on  about  Seth's  wife 
overlappin'  his  prem'ses,  I'd  'a'  beat  him  out  of  that 
No.  9  if  I'd  'a'  had  to  stand  two  dollars  extra,  let 
alone  one.  That's  the  way  I  felt  about  it.  Says  I, 
what's  a  dollar,  anyway?  Life's  on'y  a  pilgrimage, 
says  I;  we  ain't  here  for  good,  and  we  can't  take  it 
with  us,  says  I.  So  I  just  dumped  it  down,  knowin' 
the  Lord  don't  suffer  a  good  deed  to  go  for  nothin', 
and  cal' latin'  to  take  it  out  o'  somebody  in  the  course 
o'  trade.  Then  there  was  another  reason,  John.  No. 
9's  a  long  way  the  handiest  lot  in  the  simitery,  and  the 

17 


256  Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion 

likeliest  for  situation.  It  lays  right  on  top  of  a  knoll 
in  the  dead  center  of  the  buryin'  ground;  and  you  can 
see  Millport  from  there,  and  Tracy's,  and  Hopper 
Mount,  and  a  raft  o'  farms,  and  so  on.  There  ain't 
no  better  outlook  from  a  buryin'  plot  in  the  State.  Si 
Higgins  says  so,  and  I  reckon  he  ought  to  know. 
Well,  and  that  ain't  all.  'Course  Shorb  had  to  take 
No.  8;  wa'n't  no  help  for  't.  Now,  No.  8  jines  on  to 
No.  9,  but  it's  on  the  slope  of  the  hill,  and  every  time 
it  rains  it'll  soak  right  down  on  to  the  Shorbs.  Si 
Higgins  says  't  when  the  deacon's  time  comes,  he 
better  take  out  fire  and  marine  insurance  both  on  his 
remains." 

Here  there  was  the  sound  of  a  low,  placid,  duplicate 
chuckle  of  appreciation  and  satisfaction. 

"  Now,  John,  here's  a  little  rough  draught  of  the 
ground  that  I've  made  on  a  piece  of  paper.  Up  here 
in  the  left-hand  corner  we've  bunched  the  departed ; 
took  them  from  the  old  graveyard  and  stowed  them 
one  along  side  o'  t'other,  on  a  first-come-first-served 
plan,  no  partialities,  with  Gran'ther  Jones  for  a  starter, 
on'y  because  it  happened  so,  and  windin'  up  indis 
criminate  with  Seth's  twins.  A  little  crowded  towards 
the  end  of  the  lay-out,  may  be,  but  we  reckoned 
'twa'n't  best  to  scatter  the  twins.  Well,  next  comes 
the  livin'.  Here,  where  it's  marked  A,  we're  goin'  to 
put  Mariar  and  her  family,  when  they're  called;  B, 
that's  for  Brother  Hosea  and  hisn ;  C,  Calvin  and 
tribe.  What's  left  is  these  two  lots  here  —  just  the 
gem  of  the  whole  patch  for  general  style  and  outlook ; 
they're  for  me  and  my  folks,  and  you  and  yourn. 
Which  of  them  would  you  ruther  be  buried  in?" 

"  I  swan,  you've  took  me  mighty  unexpected, 
William  !  It  sort  of  started  the  shivers.  Fact  is,  I  was 
thinkin'  so  busy  about  makin'  things  comfortable  for  the 
others,  I  hadn't  thought  about  being  buried  myself." 


Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion  257 

"  Life's  on'y  a  fleetin'  show,  John,  as  the  sayin'  is. 
We've  all  got  to  go,  sooner  or  later.  To  go  with  a 
clean  record's  the  main  thing.  Fact  is,  it's  the  on'y 
thing  worth  strivin'  for,  John." 

"Yes,  that's  so,  William,  that's  so;  there  ain't  no 
getting  around  it.  Which  of  these  lots  would  you 
recommend?" 

"  Well,  it  depends,  John.  Are  you  particular  about 
outlook?" 

"I  don't  say  I  am,  William,  I  don't  say  I  ain't. 
Reely,  I  don't  know.  But  mainly,  I  reckon,  I'd  set 
store  by  a  south  exposure." 

"  That's  easy  fixed,  John.  They're  both  south  ex 
posure.  They  take  the  sun,  and  the  Shorbs  get  the 
shade." 

"  How  about  sile,  William?" 

"  D's  a  sandy  sile,  E's  mostly  loom." 

"You  may  gimme  E,  then,  William;  a  sandy  sile 
caves  in,  more  or  less,  and  costs  for  repairs." 

"All  right,  set  your  name  down  here,  John,  under 
E.  Now,  if  you  don't  mind  payin'  me  your  share  of 
the  fourteen  dollars,  John,  while  we're  on  the  business, 
everything's  fixed." 

After  some  higgling  and  sharp  bargaining  the  money 
was  paid,  and  John  bade  his  brother  good  night  and 
took  his  leave.  There  was  silence  for  some  moments ; 
then  a  soft  chuckle  welled  up  from  the  lonely  William, 
and  he  muttered:  "  I  declare  for  't,  if  I  haven't  made 
a  mistake !  It's  D  that's  mostly  loom,  not  E.  And 
John's  booked  for  a  sandy  sile,  after  all." 

There  was  another  soft  chuckle,  and  William  de 
parted  to  his  rest  also. 

The  next  day,  in  New  York,  was  a  hot  one.      Still  we 

managed  to   get  more  or  less   entertainment  out  of  it. 

Toward    the    middle   of   the   afternoon   we   arrived   on 

board  the  stanch  steamship  Bermuda ,  with  bag  and  bag- 

!?*• 


258  Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion 

gage,  and  hunted  for  a  shady  place.  It  was  blazing 
summer  weather,  until  we  were  half  way  down  the 
harbor.  Then  I  buttoned  my  coat  closely;  half  an 
hour  later  I  put  on  a  spring  overcoat  and  buttoned 
that.  As  we  passed  the  lightship  I  added  an  ulster 
and  tied  a  handkerchief  around  the  collar  to  hold  it 
snug  to  my  neck.  So  rapidly  had  the  summer  gone 
and  winter  come  again  ! 

By  nightfall  we  were  far  out  at  sea,  with  no  land  in 
sight.  No  telegrams  could  come  here,  no  letters,  no 
news.  This  was  an  uplifting  thought.  It  was  still 
more  uplifting  to  reflect  that  the  millions  of  harassed 
people  on  shore  behind  us  were  suffering  just  as  usual. 

The  next  day  brought  us  into  the  midst  of  the 
Atlantic  solitudes  —  out  of  smoke-colored  soundings 
into  fathomless  deep  blue ;  no  ships  visible  anywhere 
over  the  wide  ocean;  no  company  but  Mother  Gary's 
chickens  wheeling,  darting,  skimming  the  waves  in  the 
sun.  There  were  some  seafaring  men  among  the  pas 
sengers,  and  conversation  drifted  into  matters  concern 
ing  ships  and  sailors.  One  said  that  "true  as  the 
needle  to  the  pole  "  was  a  bad  figure,  since  the  needle 
seldom  pointed  to  the  pole.  He  said  a  ship's  compass 
was  not  faithful  to  any  particular  point,  but  was  the 
most  fickle  and  treacherous  of  the  servants  of  man.  It 
was  forever  changing.  It  changed  every  day  in  the 
year;  consequently  the  amount  of  the  daily  variation 
had  to  be  ciphered  out  and  allowance  made  for  it,  else 
the  mariner  would  go  utterly  astray.  Another  said 
there  was  a  vast  fortune  waiting  for  the  genius  who 
should  invent  a  compass  that  would  not  be  affected  by 
the  local  influences  of  an  iron  ship.  He  said  there  was 
only  one  creature  more  fickle  than  a  wooden  ship's 
compass,  and  that  was  the  compass  of  an  iron  ship. 
Then  came  reference  to  the  well-known  fact  that  an 
experienced  manner  can  look  at  the  compass  of  a  new 


Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion  259 

iron  vessel,  thousands  of  miles  from  her  birthplace,  and 
tell  which  way  her  head  was  pointing  when  she  was  in 
process  of  building. 

Now  an  ancient  whale-ship  master  fell  to  talking 
about  the  sort  of  crews  they  used  to  have  in  his  early 
days.  Said  he: 

"  Sometimes  we'd  have  a  batch  of  college  students. 
Queer  lot.  Ignorant?  Why,  they  didn't  know  the 
catheads  from  the  main  brace.  But  if  you  took  them 
for  fools  you'd  get  bit,  sure.  They'd  learn  more  in  a 
month  than  another  man  would  in  a  year.  We  had 
one,  once,  in  the  Mary  Ann,  that  came  aboard  with 
gold  spectacles  on.  And  besides,  he  was  rigged  out 
from  main  truck  to  keelson  in  the  nobbiest  clothes  that 
ever  saw  a  fo'castle.  He  had  a  chest  full,  too;  cloaks, 
and  broadcloth  coats,  and  velvet  vests;  everything 
swell,  you  know;  and  didn't  the  salt  water  fix  them 
out  for  him?  I  guess  not!  Well,  going  to  sea,  the 
mate  told  him  to  go  aloft  and  help  shake  out  the  fore- 
to' gallants'  1.  Up  he  shins  to  the  foretop,  with  his 
spectacles  on,  and  in  a  minute  down  he  comes  again, 
looking  insulted.  Says  the  mate,  *  What  did  you  come 
down  for?'  Says  the  chap,  '  P'r'aps  you  didn't  notice 
that  there  ain't  any  ladders  above  there.'  You  see  we 
hadn't  any  shrouds  above  the  foretop.  The  men 
bursted  out  in  a  laugh  such  as  I  guess  you  never 
heard  the  like  of.  Next  night,  which  was  dark  and 
rainy,  the  mate  ordered  this  chap  to  go  aloft  about 
something,  and  I'm  dummed  if  he  didn't  start  up  with 
an  umbrella  and  a  lantern  !  But  no  matter ;  he  made 
a  mighty  good  sailor  before  the  voyage  was  done,  and 
we  had  to  hunt  up  something  else  to  laugh  at.  Years 
afterwards,  when  I  had  forgot  all  about  him,  I  comes 
into  Boston,  mate  of  a  ship,  and  was  loafing  around 
town  with  the  second  mate,  and  it  so  happened  that  we 
stepped  into  the  Revere  House,  thinking  maybe  we 


260  Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion 

would  chance  the  salt-horse  in  that  big  dining-room 
for  a  flyer,  as  the  boys  say.  Some  fellows  were  talk 
ing  just  at  our  elbow,  and  one  says,  *  Vender's  the  new 
governor  of  Massachusetts  —  at  that  table  over  there 
with  the  ladies.'  We  took  a  good  look,  my  mate  and 
I,  for  we  hadn't  either  of  us  ever  seen  a  governor  be 
fore.  I  looked  and  looked  at  that  face,  and  then  all 
of  a  sudden  it  popped  on  me  !  But  I  didn't  give  any 
sign.  Says  I,  '  Mate,  I've  a  notion  to  go  over  and 
shake  hands  with  him.'  Says  he,  '  I  think  I  see  you 
doing  it,  Tom.'  Says  I,  '  Mate,  I'm  a-going  to  do  it.' 
Says  he,  'Oh,  yes,  I  guess  so!  May  be  you  don't 
want  to  bet  you  will,  Tom?'  Says  I,  'I  don't  mind 
going  a  V  on  it,  mate.'  Says  he,  *  Put  it  up.'  '  Up 
she  goes,'  says  I,  planking  the  cash.  This  surprised 
him.  But  he  covered  it,  and  says,  pretty  sarcastic, 
'  Hadn't  you  better  take  your  grub  with  the  governor 
and  the  ladies,  Tom?'  Says  I,  '  Upon  second  thoughts, 
I  will.'  Says  he,  'Well,  Tom,  you  are  a  dum  fool.' 
Says  I,  'Maybe  I  am,  maybe  I  ain't;  but  the  main 
question  is,  do  you  want  to  risk  two  and  a  half  that  I 
won't  do  it?'  '  Make  it  a  V,'  says  he.  '  Done,'  says 
I.  I  started,  him  a-giggling  and  slapping  his  hand  on 
his  thigh,  he  felt  so  good.  I  went  over  there  and 
leaned  my  knuckles  on  the  table  a  minute  and  looked 
the  governor  in  the  face,  and  says  I,  '  Mr.  Gardner, 
don't  you  know  me?'  He  stared,  and  I  stared,  and 
he  stared.  Then  all  of  a  sudden  he  sings  out,  '  Tom 
Bowling,  by  the  holy  poker!  Ladies,  it's  old  Tom 
Bowling,  that  you've  heard  me  talk  about  —  shipmate 
of  mine  in  the  Mary  Ann.'  He  rose  up  and  shook 
hands  with  me  ever  so  hearty  —  I  sort  of  glanced 
around  and  took  a  realizing  sense  of  my  mate's  saucer 
eyes  —  and  then  says  the  governor,  'Plant  yourself, 
Tom,  plant  yourself;  you  can't  cat  your  anchor  again 
till  you've  had  a  feed  with  me  and  the  ladies!'  I 


Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion  261 

planted  myself  alongside  the  governor,  and  canted  my 
eye  around  toward  my  mate.  Well,  sir,  his  dead 
lights  were  bugged  out  like  tompions ;  and  his  mouth 
stood  that  wide  open  that  you  could  have  laid  a  ham  in 
it  without  him  noticing  it." 

There  was  great  applause  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
old  captain's  story;  then,  after  a  moment's  silence,  a 
grave,  pale  young  man  said : 

"  Had  you  ever  met  the  governor  before?" 

The  old  captain  looked  steadily  at  this  inquirer 
awhile,  and  then  got  up  and  walked  aft  without  making 
any  reply.  One  passenger  after  another  stole  a  furtive 
glance  at  the  inquirer,  but  failed  to  make  him  out,  and 
so  gave  him  up.  It  took  some  little  work  to  get  the 
talk-machinery  to  running  smoothly  again  after  this 
derangement;  but  at  length  a  conversation  sprang  up 
about  that  important  and  jealously  guarded  instrument, 
a  ship's  timekeeper,  its  exceeding  delicate  accuracy, 
and  the  wreck  and  destruction  that  have  sometimes 
resulted  from  its  varying  a  few  seemingly  trifling  mo 
ments  from  the  true  time;  then,  in  due  course,  my 
comrade,  the  Reverend,  got  off  on  a  yarn,  with  a  fair 
wind  and  everything  drawing.  It  was  a  true  story, 
too —  about  Captain  Rounceville's  shipwreck  —  true  in 
every  detail.  It  was  to  this  effect: 

Captain  Rounceville's  vessel  was  lost  in  mid-Atlantic, 
and  likewise  his  wife  and  his  two  little  children.  Cap 
tain  Rounceville  and  seven  seamen  escaped  with  life, 
but  with  little  else.  A  small,  rudely  constructed  raft 
was  to  be  their  home  for  eight  days.  They  had  neither 
provisions  nor  water.  They  had  scarcely  any  clothing; 
no  one  had  a  coat  but  the  captain.  This  coat  was 
changing  hands  all  the  time,  for  the  weather  was  very 
cold.  Whenever  a  man  became  exhausted  with  the 
cold,  they  put  the  coat  on  him  and  laid  him  down  be 
tween  two  shipmates  until  the  garment  and  their  bodies 


262  Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion 

had  warmed  life  into  him  again.  Among  the  sailors 
was  a  Portuguese  who  knew  no  English.  He  seemed  to 
have  no  thought  of  his  own  calamity,  but  was  concerned 
only  about  the  captain's  bitter  loss  of  wife  and  children. 
By  day  he  would  look  his  dumb  compassion  in  the 
captain's  face;  and  by  night,  in  the  darkness  and  the 
driving  spray  and  rain,  he  would  seek  out  the  captain 
and  try  to  comfort  him  with  caressing  pats  on  the 
shoulder.  One  day,  when  hunger  and  thirst  were 
making  their  sure  inroads  upon  the  men's  strength  and 
spirits,  a  floating  barrel  was  seen  at  a  distance.  It 
seemed  a  great  find,  for  doubtless  it  contained  food  of 
some  sort.  A  brave  fellow  swam  to  it,  and  after  long 
and  exhausting  effort  got  it  to  the  raft.  It  was  eagerly 
opened.  It  was  a  barrel  of  magnesia!  On  the  fifth 
day  an  onion  was  spied.  A  sailor -swam  off  and  got  it. 
Although  perishing  with  hunger,  he  brought  it  in  its 
integrity  and  put  it  into  the  captain's  hand.  The 
history  of  the  sea  teaches  that  among  starving,  ship 
wrecked  men  selfishness  is  rare,  and  a  wonder- 
compelling  magnanimity  the  rule.  The  onion  was 
equally  divided  into  eight  parts,  and  eaten  with  deep 
thanksgivings.  On  the  eighth  day  a  distant  ship  was 
sighted.  Attempts  were  made  to  hoist  an  oar,  with 
Captain  Rounceville's  coat  on  it  for  a  signal.  There 
were  many  failures,  for  the  men  were  but  skeletons 
now,  and  strengthless.  At  last  success  was  achieved, 
but  the  signal  brought  no  help.  The  ship  faded  out  of 
sight  and  left  despair  behind  her.  By  and  by  another 
ship  appeared,  and  passed  so  near  that  the  castaways, 
every  eye  eloquent  with  gratitude,  made  ready  to  wel 
come  the  boat  that  would  be  sent  to  save  them.  But 
this  ship  also  drove  on,  and  left  these  men  staring  their 
unutterable  surprise  and  dismay  into  each  other's  ashen 
faces.  Late  in  the  day,  still  another  ship  came  up  out 
of  the  distance,  but  the  men  noted  with  a  pang  that 


Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion  263 

her  course  was  one  which  would  not  bring  her  nearer. 
Their  remnant  of  life  was  nearly  spent ;  their  lips  and 
tongues  were  swollen,  parched,  cracked  with  eight 
days'  thirst ;  their  bodies  starved ;  and  here  was  their 
last  chance  gliding  relentlessly  from  them ;  they  would 
not  be  alive  when  the  next  sun  rose.  For  a  day  or  two 
past  the  men  had  lost  their  voices,  but  now  Captain 
Rounceville  whispered,  "Let  us  pray."  The  Portu 
guese  patted  him  on  the  shoulder  in  sign  of  deep  ap 
proval.  All  knelt  at  the  base  of  the  oar  that  was 
waving  the  signal-coat  aloft,  and  bowed  their  heads. 
The  sea  was  tossing;  the  sun  rested,  a  red,  rayless 
disk,  on  the  sea-line  in  the  west.  When  the  men  pres 
ently  raised  their  heads  they  would  have  roared  a  halle 
lujah  if  they  had  had  a  voice;  the  ship's  sails  lay 
wrinkled  and  flapping  against  her  masts  —  she  was 
going  about !  Here  was  rescue  at  last,  and  in  the  very 
last  instant  of  time  that  was  left  for  it.  No,  not  rescue 
yet  —  only  the  imminent  prospect  of  it.  The  red  disk 
sank  under  the  sea,  and  darkness  blotted  out  the  ship. 
By  and  by  came  a  pleasant  sound  —  oars  moving  in  a 
boat's  rowlocks.  Nearer  it  came,  and  nearer  —  within 
thirty  steps,  but  nothing  visible.  Then  a  deep  voice: 
''Hol-/0/"  The  castaways  could  not  answer;  their 
swollen  tongues  refused  voice.  The  boat  skirted  round 
and  round  the  raft,  started  away  —  the  agony  of  it!  — 
returned,  rested  the  oars,  close  at  hand,  listening,  no 
doubt.  The  deep  voice  again:  "  Hol-/0  /  Where  are 
ye,  shipmates?"  Captain  Rounceville  whispered  to 
his  men,  saying:  "Whisper  your  best,  boys!  now  — 
all  at  once!"  So  they  sent  out  an  eightfold  whisper 
in  hoarse  concert:  "  Here  !"  There  was  life  in  it  if  it 
succeeded;  death  if  it  failed.  After  that  supreme  mo 
ment  Captain  Rounceville  was  conscious  of  nothing 
until  he  came  to  himself  on  board  the  saving  ship. 
Said  the  Reverend,  concluding: 


264  Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion 

'  There  was  one  little  moment  of  time  in  which  that 
raft  could  be  visible  from  that  ship,  and  only  one.  If 
that  one  little  fleeting  moment  had  passed  unfruitful, 
those  men's  doom  was  sealed.  As  close  as  that  does 
God  shave  events  foreordained  from  the  beginning  of 
the  world.  When  the  sun  reached  the  water's  .edge 
that  day,  the  captain  of  that  ship  was  sitting  on  deck 
reading  his  prayer-book.  The  book  fell ;  he  stooped 
to  pick  it  up,  and  happened  to  glance  at  the  sun.  In 
that  instant  that  far-off  raft  appeared  for  a  second 
against  the  red  disk,  its  needle-like  oar  and  diminutive 
signal  cut  sharp  and  black  against  the  bright  surface, 
and  in  the  next  instant  was  thrust  away  into  the  dusk 
again.  But  that  ship,  that  captain,  and  that  pregnant 
instant  had  had  their  work  appointed  for  them  in  the 
dawn  of  time  and  could  not  fail  of  the  performance. 
The  chronometer  of  God  never  errs  !" 

There  was  deep,  thoughtful  silence  for  some  mo 
ments.  Then  the  grave,  pale  young  man  said: 

"  What  is  the  chronometer  of  God?" 


ii. 

AT  dinner,  six  o'clock,  the  same  people  assembled 
whom  we  had  talked  with  on  deck  and  seen  at  luncheon 
and  breakfast  this  second  day  out,  and  at  dinner  the 
evening  before.  That  is  to  say,  three  journeying  ship 
masters,  a  Boston  merchant,  and  a  returning  Bermudian 
who  had  been  absent  from  his  Bermuda  thirteen  years ; 
these  sat  on  the  starboard  side.  On  the  port  side  sat 
the  Reverend  in  the  seat  of  honor;  the  pale  young 
man  next  to  him ;  I  next ;  next  to  me  an  aged  Ber 
mudian,  returning  to  his  sunny  islands  after  an  absence 
of  twenty-seven  years.  Of  course,  our  captain  was 


Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion  265 

at  the  head  of  the  table,  the  purser  at  the  foot  of 
it.  A  small  company,  but  small  companies  are 
pleasantest. 

No  racks  upon  the  table ;  the  sky  cloudless,  the  sun 
brilliant,  the  blue  sea  scarcely  ruffled ;  then  what  had 
become  of  the  four  married  couples,  the  three  bachelors, 
and  the  active  and  obliging  doctor  from  the  rural  dis 
tricts  of  Pennsylvania?  —  for  all  these  were  on  deck 
when  we  sailed  down  New  York  harbor.  This  is  the 
explanation.  I  quote  from  my  note-book: 

Thursday,  3.30  P.M,  Under  way,  passing  the  Battery.  The  large  party, 
of  four  married  couples,  three  bachelors,  and  a  cheery,  exhilarating  doctor 
from  the  wilds  of  Pennsylvania,  are  evidently  traveling  together.  All  but 
the  doctor  grouped  in  camp-chairs  on  deck. 

Passing  principal  fort.  The  doctor  is  one  of  those  people  who  has  an 
infallible  preventive  of  sea-sickness;  is  flitting  from  friend  to  friend  admin 
istering  it  and  saying,  "Don't  you  be  afraid;  I  know  this  medicine;  abso 
lutely  infallible;  prepared  under  my  own  supervision."  Takes  a  dose 
himself,  intrepidly. 

4.15  P.M.  Two  of  those  ladies  have  struck  their  colors,  notwithstand 
ing  the  "infallible."  They  have  gone  below.  The  other  two  begin  to 
show  distress. 

5  P.M.  Exit  one  husband  and  one  bachelor.  These  still  had  their 
infallible  in  cargo  when  they  started,  but  arrived  at  the  companionway 
without  it. 

5.10.  Lady  No.  3,  two  bachelors,  and  one  married  man  have  gone 
below  with  their  own  opinion  of  the  infallible. 

5.20.  Passing  Quarantine  Hulk.  The  infallible  has  done  the  business 
for  all  the  party  except  the  Scotchman's  wife  and  the  author  of  that  formid 
able  remedy. 

Nearing  the  Light-Ship.  Exit  the  Scotchman's  wife,  head  drooped  on 
stewardess's  shoulder. 

Entering  the  open  sea.     Exit  doctor ! 

The  rout  seems  permanent;  hence  the  smallness  of 
the  company  at  table  since  the  voyage  began.  Our 
captain  is  a  grave,  handsome  Hercules  of  thirty-five, 
with  a  brown  hand  of  such  majestic  size  that  one  can- 


266  Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion 

not  eat  for  admiring  it  and  wondering  if  a  single  kid  or 
calf  could  furnish  material  for  gloving  it. 

Conversation  not  general;  drones  along  between 
couples.  One  catches  a  sentence  here  and  there. 
Like  this,  from  Bermudian  of  thirteen  years'  absence : 
"It  is  the  nature  of  women  to  ask  trivial,  irrelevant, 
and  pursuing  questions — questions  that  pursue  you 
from  a  beginning  in  nothing  to  a  run-to-cover  in  no 
where."  Reply  of  Bermudian  of  twenty-seven  years' 
absence:  "Yes;  and  to  think  they  have  logical,  ana 
lytical  minds  and  argumentative  ability.  You  see  'em 
begin  to  whet  up  whenever  they  smell  argument  in  the 
air."  Plainly  these  be  philosophers. 

Twice  since  we  left  port  our  engines  have  stopped 
for  a  couple  of  minutes  at  a  time.  Now  they  stop 
again.  Says  the  pale  young  man,  meditatively,  "  There  ! 
—  that  engineer  is  sitting  down  to  rest  again." 

Grave  stare  from  the  captain,  whose  mighty  jaws 
cease  to  work,  and  whose  harpooned  potato  stops  in 
mid-air  on  its  way  to  his  open,  paralyzed  mouth. 
Presently  he  says  ir  measured  tones,  "Is  it  your  idea 
that  the  engineer  of  this  ship  propels  her  by  a  crank 
turned  by  his  own  hands?" 

The  pale  young  man  studies  over  this  a  moment, 
then  lifts  up  his  guileless  eyes,  and  says,  "  Don't  he?" 

Thus  gently  falls  the  death-blow  to  further  conversa 
tion,  and  the  dinner  drags  to  its  close  in  a  reflective 
silence,  disturbed  by  no  sounds  but  the  murmurous 
wash  of  the  sea  and  the  subdued  clash  of  teeth. 

After  a  smoke  and  a  promenade  on  deck,  where  is 
no  motion  to  discompose  our  steps,  we  think  of  a  game 
of  whist.  We  ask  the  brisk  and  capable  stewardess 
from  Ireland  if  there  are  any  cards  in  the  ship. 

"  Bless  your  soul,  dear,  indeed  there  is.  Not  a  whole 
pack,  true  for  ye,  but  not  enough  missing  to  signify." 

However,  I  happened  by  accident  to  bethink  me  of  a 


Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion  267 

new  pack  in  a  morocco  case,  in  my  trunk,  which  I  had 
placed  there  by  mistake,  thinking  it  to  be  a  flask  of 
something.  So  a  party  of  us  conquered  the  tedium  of 
the  evening  with  a  few  games  and  were  ready  for  bed 
at  six  bells,  mariner's  time,  the  signal  for  putting  out 
the  lights. 

There  was  much  chat  in  the  smoking-cabin  on  the 
upper  deck  after  luncheon  to-day,  mostly  whaler  yarns 
from  those  old  sea  captains.  Captain  Tom  Bowling 
was  garrulous.  He  had  that  garrulous  attention  to 
minor  detail  which  is  born  of  secluded  farm  life  or  life 
at  sea  on  long  voyages,  where  there  is  little  to  do  and 
time  no  object.  He  would  sail  along  till  he  was  right 
in  the  most  exciting  part  of  a  yarn,  and  then  say, 
"Well,  as  I  was  saying,  the  rudder  was  fouled,  ship 
driving  before  the  gale,  head-on,  straight  for  the  ice 
berg,  all  hands  holding  their  breath,  turned  to  stone, 
top-hamper  giving  'way,  sails  blown  to  ribbons,  first 
one  stick  going,  then  another,  boom  !  smash  !  crash  ! 
duck  your  head  and  stand  from  under !  when  up  comes 
Johnny  Rogers,  capstan  bar  in  hand,  eyes  a-blazing, 

hair  a-flying no,  'twa'n't  Johnny  Rogers 

lemme  see seems  to  me  Johnny  Rogers  wa'n't 

along  that  voyage;  he  was  along  one  voyage,  I  know 
that  mighty  well,  but  somehow  it  seems  to  me  that  he 
signed  the  articles  for  this  voyage,  but  —  but  —  whether 
he  come  along  or  not,  or  got  left,  or  something  hap 
pened  — " 

And  so  on  and  so  on  till  the  excitement  all  cooled 
down  and  nobody  cared  whether  the  ship  struck  the 
iceberg  or  not. 

In  the  course  of  his  talk  he  rambled  into  a  criticism 
upon  New  England  degrees  of  merit  in  shipbuilding. 
Said  he  "You  get  a  vessel  built  away  down  Maine- 
way;  Bath,  for  instance;  what's  the  result?  First 
thing  you  do,  you  want  to  heave  her  down  for  repairs 


268  Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion 

—  that's  the  result!  Well,  sir,  she  hain't  been  hove 
down  a  week  till  you  can  heave  a  dog  through  her 
seams.  You  send  that  vessel  to  sea,  and  what's  the 
result?  She  wets  her  oakum  the  first  trip  !  Leave  it 
to  any  man  if  'tain't  so.  Well,  you  let  our  folks  build 
you  a  vessel  —  down  New  Bedford-way.  What's  the 
result?  Well,  sir,  you  might  take  that  ship  and  heave 
her  down,  and  keep  her  hove  down  six  months,  and 
she'll  never  shed  a  tear !" 

Everybody,  landsmen  and  all,  recognized  the  descrip 
tive  neatness  of  that  figure,  and  applauded,  which 
greatly  pleased  the  old  man.  A  moment  later,  the 
meek  eyes  of  the  pale  young  fellow  heretofore  men 
tioned  came  up  slowly,  rested  upon  the  old  man's  face 
a  moment,  and  the  meek  mouth  began  to  open. 

"  Shet  your  head  !"   shouted  the  old  mariner. 

It  was  a  rather  startling  surprise  to  everybody,  but  it 
was  effective  in  the  matter  of  its  purpose.  So  the  con 
versation  flowed  on  instead  of  perishing. 

There  was  some  talk  about  the  perils  of  the  sea,  and 
a  landsman  delivered  himself  of  the  customary  non 
sense  about  the  poor  mariner  wandering  in  far  oceans, 
tempest-tossed,  pursued  by  dangers,  every  storm-blast 
and  thunder-bolt  in  the  home  skies  moving  the  friends 
by  snug  firesides  to  compassion  for  that  poor  manner, 
and  prayers  for  his  succor.  Captain  Bowling  put  up 
with  this  for  a  while,  and  then  burst  out  with  a  new 
view  of  the  matter. 

"  Come,  belay  there!  I  have  read  this  kind  of  rot 
all  my  life  in  poetry  and  tales  and  such  like  rubbage. 
Pity  for  the  poor  mariner !  sympathy  for  the  poor 
manner !  All  right  enough,  but  not  in  the  way  the 
poetry  puts  it.  Pity  for  the  mariner's  wife  !  all  right 
again,  but  not  in  the  way  the  poetry  puts  it.  Look-a- 
here  !  whose  life's  the  safest  in  the  whole  world?  The 
poor  mariner's.  You  look  at  the  statistics,  you'll  see. 


Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion  269 

So  don't  you  fool  away  any  sympathy  on  the  poor 
mariner's  dangers  and  privations  and  sufferings.  Leave 
that  to  the  poetry  muffs.  Now  you  look  at  the  other 
side  a  minute.  Here  is  Captain  Brace,  forty  years  old, 
been  at  sea  thirty.  On  his  way  now  to  take  command 
of  his  ship  and  sail  south  from  Bermuda.  Next  week 
he'll  be  under  way;  easy  times;  comfortable  quarters; 
passengers,  sociable  company;  just  enough  to  do  to 
keep  his  mind  healthy  and  not  tire  him ;  king  over  his 
ship,  boss  of  everything  and  everybody;  thirty  years' 
safety  to  learn  him  that  his  profession  ain't  a  dangerous 
one.  Now  you  look  back  at  his  home.  His  wife's  a 
feeble  woman;  she's  a  stranger  in  New  York;  shut  up 
in  blazing  hot  or  freezing  cold  lodgings,  according  to 
the  season;  don't  know  anybody  hardly ;  no  company 
but  her  lonesomeness  and  her  thoughts ;  husband  gone 
six  months  at  a  time.  She  has  borne  eight  children ; 
five  of  them  she  has  buried  without  her  husband  ever 
setting  eyes  on  them.  She  watched  them  all  the  long 
nights  till  they  died  —  he  comfortable  on  the  sea ;  she 
followed  them  to  the  grave,  she  heard  the  clods  fall 
that  broke  her  heart  —  he  comfortable  on  the  sea;  she 
mourned  at  home,  weeks  and  weeks,  missing  them 
every  day  and  every  hour  —  he  cheerful  at  sea,  know 
ing  nothing  about  it.  Now  look  at  it  a  minute  —  turn 
it  over  in  your  mind  and  size  it:  five  children  born, 
she  among  strangers,  and  him  not  by  to  hearten  her; 
buried,  and  him  not  by  to  comfort  her;  think  of  that! 
Sympathy  for  the  poor  mariner's  perils  is  rot;  give  it 
to  his  wife's  hard  lines,  where  it  belongs!  Poetry 
makes  out  that  all  the  wife  worries  about  is  the  dangers 
her  husband's  running.  She's  got  substantialer  things 
to  worry  over,  I  tell  you.  Poetry's  always  pitying  the 
poor  mariner  on  account  of  his  perils  at  sea;  better  a 
blamed  sight  pity  him  for  the  nights  he  can't  sleep  for 
thinking  of  how  he  had  to  leave  his  wife  in  her  very 


270  Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion 

birth  pains,  lonesome  and  friendless,  in  the  thick  of 
disease  and  trouble  and  death.  If  there's  one  thing 
that  can  make  me  madder  than  another,  it's  this  sappy, 
damned  maritime  poetry!" 

Captain  Brace  was  a  patient,  gentle,  seldom-speaking 
man,  with  a  pathetic  something  in  his  bronzed  face 
that  had  been  a  mystery  up  to  this  time,  but  stood 
interpreted  now  since  we  had  heard  his  story.  He  had 
voyaged  eighteen  times  to  the  Mediterranean,  seven 
times  to  India,  once  to  the  arctic  pole  in  a  discovery- 
ship,  and  '*  between  times  "  had  visited  all  the  remote 
seas  and  ocean  corners  of  the  globe.  But  he  said  that 
twelve  years  go,  on  account  of  his  family,  he  "  settled 
down,"  and  ever  since  then  had  ceased  to  roam.  And 
what  do  you  suppose  was  this  simple-hearted,  lifelong 
wanderer's  idea  of  settling  down  and  ceasing  to  roam? 
Why,  the  making  of  two  five-month  voyages  a  year 
between  Surinam  and  Boston  for  sugar  and  molasses ! 

Among  other  talk  to-day,  it  came  out  that  whale- 
ships  carry  no  doctor.  The  captain  adds  the  doctor- 
ship  to  his  own  duties.  He  not  only  gives  medicines, 
but  sets  broken  limbs  after  notions  of  his  own,  or  saws 
them  off  and  sears  the  stump  when  amputation  seems 
best.  The  captain  is  provided  with  a  medicine-chest, 
with  the  medicines  numbered  instead  of  named.  A 
book  of  directions  goes  with  this.  It  describes  diseases 
and  symptoms,  and  says,  "  Give  a  teaspoonful  of  No. 
9  once  an  hour,"  or  "  Give  ten  grains  of  No.  12  every 
half  hour,"  etc.  One  of  our  sea  captains  came  across 
a  skipper  in  the  North  Pacific  who  was  in  a  state  of 
great  surprise  and  perplexity.  Said  he : 

'  There's  something  rotten  about  this  medicine-chest 
business.  One  of  my  men  was  sick  —  nothing  much 
the  matter.  I  looked  in  the  book:  it  said,  give  him  a 
teaspoonful  of  No.  15.  I  went  to  the  medicine-chest, 
and  I  see  I  was  out  of  No.  15.  I  judged  I'd  got  to 


Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion  271 

get  up  a  combination  somehow  that  would  fill  the  bill ; 
so  I  hove  into  the  fellow  half  a  teaspoonful  of  No.  8 
and  half  a  teaspoonful  of  No.  7,  and  I'll  be  hanged  if 
it  didn't  kill  him  in  fifteen  minutes!  There's  some 
thing  about  this  medicine-chest  system  that's  too  many 
for  me !" 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  pleasant  gossip  about  old 
Captain  "Hurricane"  Jones,  of  the  Pacific  ocean  — 
peace  to  his  ashes  !  Two  or  three  of  us  present  had 
known  him  ;  I  particularly  well,  for  I  had  made  four  sea- 
voyages  with  him.  He  was  a  very  remarkable  man. 
He  was  born  in  a  ship ;  he  picked  up  what  little  educa 
tion  he  had  among  his  shipmates ;  he  began  life  in  the 
forecastle,  and  climbed  grade  by  grade  to  the  cap 
taincy.  More  than  fifty  years  of  his  sixty-five  were 
spent  at  sea.  He  had  sailed  all  oceans,  seen  all  lands, 
and  borrowed  a  tint  from  all  climates.  When  a  man 
has  been  fifty  years  at  sea  he  necessarily  knows  nothing 
of  men,  nothing  of  the  world  but  its  surface,  nothing 
of  the  world's  thought,  nothing  of  the  world's  learning 
but  its  A  B  C,  and  that  blurred  and  distorted  by  the 
unfocused  lenses  of  an  untrained  mind.  Such  a  man 
is  only  a  gray  and  bearded  child.  That  is  what  old 
Hurricane  Jones  was  —  simply  an  innocent,  lovable  old 
infant.  When  his  spirit  was  in  repose  he  was  as  sweet 
and  gentle  as  a  girl ;  when  his  wrath  was  up  he  was  a 
hurricane  that  made  his  nickname  seem  tamely  descrip 
tive.  He  was  formidable  in  a  fight,  for  he  was  of 
powerful  build  and  dauntless  courage.  He  was  fres 
coed  from  head  to  heel  with  pictures  and  mottoes 
tattooed  in  red  and  blue  India  ink.  I  was  with  him 
one  voyage  when  he  got  his  last  vacant  space  tattooed ; 
this  vacant  space  was  around  his  left  ankle.  During 
three  days  he  stumped  about  the  ship  with  his  ankle 
bare  and  swollen,  and  this  legend  gleaming  red  and 
an^ry  out  trom  a  clouding  of  India  ink:  "  Virtue  is  its 

18 


272  Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion 

own  R'd."  (There  was  a  lack  of  room.)  He  was 
deeply  and  sincerely  pious,  and  swore  like  a  fish- 
woman.  He  considered  swearing  blameless,  because 
sailors  would  not  understand  an  order  unillumined  by 
it.  He  was  a  profound  biblical  scholar  —  that  is,  he 
thought  he  was.  He  believed  everything  in  the  Bible 
but  he  had  his  own  methods  of  arriving  at  his  beliefs,, 
He  was  of  the  "  advanced  "  school  of  thinkers,  and 
applied  natural  laws  to  the  interpretation  of  all  miracles, 
somewhat  on  the  plan  of  the  people  who  make  the 
six  days  of  creation  six  geological  epochs,  and  so 
forth.  Without  being  aware  of  it,  he  was  a  rather 
severe  satire  on  modern  scientific  religionists.  Such 
a  man  as  I  have  been  describing  is  rabidly  fond  of 
disquisition  and  argument;  one  knows  that  without 
being  told  it. 

One  trip  the  captain  had  a  clergyman  on  board,  but 
did  not  know  he  was  a  clergyman,  since  the  passenger 
list  did  not  betray  the  fact.  He  took  a  great  liking  to 
this  Reverend  Mr.  Peters,  and  talked  with  him  a  great 
deal;  told  him  yarns,  gave  him  toothsome  scraps  of 
personal  history,  and  wove  a  glittering  streak  of  pro 
fanity  through  his  garrulous  fabric  that  was  refreshing 
to  a  spirit  weary  of  the  dull  neutralities  of  undecorated 
speech.  One  day  the  captain  said,  "  Peters,  do  you 
ever  read  the  Bible?" 

-Well  — yes." 

"  I  judge  it  ain't  often,  by  the  way  you  say  it. 
Now,  you  tackle  it  in  dead  earnest  once,  and  you'll 
find  it'll  pay.  Don't  you  get  discouraged,  but  hang 
right  on.  First,  you  won't  understand  it;  but  by  and 
by  things  will  begin  to  clear  up,  and  then  you  wouldn't 
lay  it  down  to  eat." 

"  Yes,  I  have  heard  that  said." 

"  And  it's  so,  too.  There  ain't  a  book  that  begins 
with  it.  It  lays  over'm  all,  Peters.  There's  some 


Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion  273 

pretty  tough  things  in  it  —  there  ain't  any  getting 
around  that  —  but  you  stick  to  them  and  think  them 
out,  and  when  once  you  get  on  the  inside  everything's 
plain  as  day." 

"The  miracles,  too,  captain?" 

'Yes,  sir!  the  miracles,  too.  Everyone  of  them. 
Now,  there's  that  business  with  the  prophets  of  Baal; 
like  enough  that  stumped  you?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know  but—" 

"Own  up  now;  it  stumped  you.  Well,  I  don't 
wonder.  You  hadn't  had  any  experience  in  raveling 
such  things  out,  and  naturally  it  was  too  many  for  you. 
Would  you  like  to  have  me  explain  that  thing  to  you, 
and  show  you  how  to  get  at  the  meat  of  these  matters?" 

"  Indeed,  I  would,  captain,  if  you  don't  mind." 

Then  the  captain  proceeded  as  follows:  "  I'll  do  it 
with  pleasure.  First,  you  see,  I  read  and  read,  and 
thought  and  thought,  till  I  got  to  understand  what  sort 
of  people  they  were  in  the  old  Bible  times,  and  then 
after  that  it  was  all  clear  and  easy.  Now  this  was  the 
way  I  put  it  up,  concerning  Isaac*  and  the  prophets  of 
Baal.  There  was  some  mighty  sharp  men  among  the 
public  characters  of  that  old  ancient  day,  and  Isaac 
was  one  of  them.  Isaac  had  his  failings  —  plenty  of 
them,  too;  it  ain't  for  me  to  apologize  for  Isaac;  he 
played  it  on  the  prophets  of  Baal,  and  like  enough  he 
was  justifiable,  considering  the  odds  that  was  against 
him.  No,  all  I  say  is,  'twa'n't  any  miracle,  and  that 
I'll  show  you  so's't  you  can  see  it  yourself. 

"Well,  times  had  been  getting  rougher  and  rougher 
for  prophets  —  that  is,  prophets  of  Isaac's  denomina 
tion.  There  was  four  hundred  and  fifty  prophets  of 
Baal  in  the  community,  and  only  one  Presbyterian; 
that  is,  if  Isaac  was  a  Presbyterian,  which  I  reckon  he 
was,  but  it  don't  say.  Naturally,  the  prophets  of  Baal 

*  This  is  the  captain's  own  mistake. 
18** 


274  Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion 

took  all  the  trade.  Isaac  was  pretty  low-spirited,  I 
reckon,  but  he  was  a  good  deal  of  a  man,  and  no  doubt 
he  went  a-prophesying  around,  letting  on  to  be  doing  a 
land-office  business,  but  'twa'n't  any  use;  he  couldn't 
run  any  opposition  to  amount  to  anything.  By  and  by 
things  got  desperate  with  him;  he  sets  his  head  to 
work  and  thinks  it  all  out,  and  then  what  does  he  do? 
Why,  he  begins  to  throw  out  hints  that  the  other 
parties  are  this  and  that  and  t'other  —  nothing  very 
definite,  maybe,  but  just  kind  of  undermining  their 
reputation  in  a  quiet  way.  This  made  talk,  of  course, 
and  finally  got  to  the  king.  The  king  asked  Isaac 
what  he  meant  by  his  talk.  Says  Isaac,  '  Oh,  nothing 
particular;  only,  can  they  pray  down  fire  from  heaven 
on  an  altar?  It  ain't  much,  maybe,  your  majesty, 
only  can  they  do  it?  That's  the  idea.'  So  the  king 
was  a  good  deal  disturbed,  and  he  went  to  the  prophets 
of  Baal,  and  they  said,  pretty  airy,  that  if  he  had  an 
altar  ready,  they  were  ready;  and  they  intimated  he 
better  get  it  insured,  too. 

"  So  next  morning  all  the  children  of  Israel  and  their 
parents  and  the  other  people  gathered  themselves  to 
gether.  Well,  here  was  that  great  crowd  of  prophets 
of  Baal  packed  together  on  one  side,  and  Isaac  walking 
up  and  down  all  alone  on  the  other,  putting  up  his  job. 
When  time  was  called,  Isaac  let  on  to  be  comfortable 
and  indifferent;  told  the  other  team  to  take  the  first 
innings.  So  they  went  at  it,  the  whole  four  hundred 
and  fifty,  praying  around  the  altar,  very  hopeful,  and 
doing  their  level  best.  They  prayed  an  hour  —  two 
hours  —  three  hours  —  and  so  on,  plumb  till  noon.  It 
wa'n't  any  use;  they  hadn't  took  a  trick.  Of  course 
they  felt  kind  of  ashamed  before  all  those  people,  and 
well  they  might.  Now,  what  would  a  magnanimous 
man  do?  Keep  still,  wouldn't  he?  Of  course.  What 
did  Isaac  do  ?  He  graveled  the  prophets  of  Baal  every 


Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion  275 

way  he  could  think  of.  Says  he,  'You  don't  speak 
up  loud  enough;  your  god's  asleep,  like  enough,  or 
maybe  he's  taking  a  walk;  you  want  to  holler,  you 
know' — or  words  to  that  effect;  I  don't  recollect  the 
exact  language.  Mind,  I  don't  apologize  for  Isaac; 
he  had  his  faults. 

4  Well,  the  prophets  of  Baal  prayed  along  the  best 
they  knew  how  all  the  afternoon,  and  never  raised  a 
spark.  At  last,  about  sundown,  they  were  all  tuckered 
out,  and  they  owned  up  and  quit. 

"What  does  Isaac  do  now?  He  steps  up  and  says 
to  some  friends  of  his  there,  '  Pour  four  barrels  of 
water  on  the  altar!'  Everybody  was  astonished;  for 
the  other  side  had  prayed  at  it  dry,  you  know,  and  got 
whitewashed.  They  poured  it  on.  Says  he,  '  Heave 
on  four  more  barrels.'  Then  he  says,  '  Heave  on  four 
more.'  Twelve  barrels,  you  see,  altogether.  The 
water  ran  all  over  the  altar,  and  all  down  the  sides, 
and  filled  up  a  trench  around  it  that  would  hold  a 
couple  of  hogsheads — '  measures,'  it  says;  I  reckon  it 
means  about  a  hogshead.  Some  of  the  people  were 
going  to  put  on  their  things  and  go,  for  they  allowed 
he  was  crazy.  They  didn't  know  Isaac.  Isaac  knelt 
down  and  began  to  pray;  he  strung  along,  and  strung 
along,  about  the  heathen  in  distant  lands,  and  about 
the  sister  churches,  and  about  the  state  and  the  country 
at  large,  and  about  those  that's  in  authority  in  the 
government,  and  all  the  usual  programme,  you  know, 
till  everybody  had  got  tired  and  gone  to  thinking  about 
something  else,  and  then,  all  of  a  sudden,  when  nobody 
was  noticing,  he  outs  with  a  match  and  rakes  it  on  the 
under  side  of  his  leg,  and  pff !  up  the  whole  thing 
blazes  like  a  house  afire  !  Twelve  barrels  of  water  ? 
Petroleum,  sir,  PETROLEUM!  that's  what  it  was!" 

"Petroleum,  captain?" 
4  Yes.  sir:   the  country  was  full  of  it.      Isaac  knew 


276  Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion 

all  about  that.  You  read  the  Bible.  Don't  you  worry 
about  the  tough  places.  They  ain't  tough  when  you 
come  to  think  them  out  and  throw  light  on  them. 
There  ain't  a  thing  in  the  Bible  but  what  is  true;  all 
you  want  is  to  go  prayerfully  to  work  and  cipher  out 
how  't  was  done." 

At  eight  o'clock  on  the  third  morning  out  from  New 
York,  land  was  sighted.  Away  across  the  sunny  waves 
one  saw  a  faint  dark  stripe  stretched  along  under  the 
horizon  —  or  pretended  to  see  it,  for  the  credit  of  his 
eyesight.  Even  the  Reverend  said  he  saw  it,  a  thing 
which  was  manifestly  not  so.  But  I  never  have  seen 
any  one  who  was  morally  strong  enough  to  confess 
that  he  could  not  see  land  when  others  claimed  that 
they  could. 

By  and  by  the  Bermuda  islands  were  easily  visible. 
The  principal  one  lay  upon  the  water  in  the  distance, 
a  long,  dull-colored  body,  scalloped  with  slight  hills 
and  valleys.  We  could  not  go  straight  at  it,  but  had 
to  travel  all  the  way  around  it,  sixteen  miles  from 
shore,  because  it  is  fenced  with  an  invisible  coral  reef. 
At  last  we  sighted  buoys,  bobbing  here  and  there,  and 
then  we  glided  into  a  narrow  channel  among  them, 
"  raised  the  reef,"  and  came  upon  shoaling  blue  water 
that  soon  further  shoaled  into  pale  green,  with  a  sur 
face  scarcely  rippled.  Now  came  the  resurrection 
hour;  the  berths  gave  up  their  dead.  Who  are  these 
pale  specters  in  plug  hats  and  silken  flounces  that  file 
up  the  companion-way  in  melancholy  procession  and 
step  upon  the  deck?  These  are  they  which  took  the 
infallible  preventive  of  seasickness  in  New  York  harbor 
and  then  disappeared  and  were  forgotten.  Also  there 
came  two  or  three  faces  not  seen  before  until  this  mo 
ment.  One's  impulse  is  to  ask,  "  Where  did  you  come 
aboard?" 

We  followed  the  narrow  channel  a  long  time,  with 


Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion  277 

land  on  both  sides  —  low  hills  that  might  have  been 
green  and  grassy,  but  had  a  faded  look  instead.  How 
ever,  the  land-locked  water  was  lovely,  at  any  rate, 
with  its  glittering  belts  of  blue  and  green  where  moder 
ate  soundings  were,  and  its  broad  splotches  of  rich 
brown  where  the  rocks  lay  near  the  surface.  Every 
body  was  feeling  so  well  that  even  the  grave,  pale 
young  man  (who,  by  a  sort  of  kindly  common  consent, 
had  come  latterly  to  be  referred  to  as  "The  Ass") 
received  frequent  and  friendly  notice  —  which  was  right 
enough,  for  there  was  no  harm  in  him. 

At  last  we  steamed  between  two  island  points  whose 
rocky  jaws  allowed  only  just  enough  room  for  the 
vessel's  body,  and  now  before  us  loomed  Hamilton  on 
her  clustered  hillsides  and  summits,  the  whitest  mass 
of  terraced  architecture  that  exists  in  the  world,  perhaps. 

It  was  Sunday  afternoon,  and  on  the  pier  were 
gathered  one  or  two  hundred  Bermudians,  half  of  them 
black,  half  of  them  white,  and  all  of  them  nobbily 
dressed,  as  the  poet  says. 

Several  boats  came  off  to  the  ship,  bringing  citizens. 
One  of  these  citizens  was  a  faded,  diminutive  old 
gentleman,  who  approached  our  most  ancient  passen 
ger  with  a  childlike  joy  in  his  twinkling  eyes,  halted 
before  him,  folded  his  arms,  and  said,  smiling  with  all 
his  might  and  with  all  the  simple  delight  that  was  in 
him,  "  You  don't  know  me,  John!  Come,  out  with  it 
now;  you  know  you  don't!" 

The  ancient  passenger  scanned  him  perplexedly, 
scanned  the  napless,  threadbare  costume  of  venerable 
fashion  that  had  done  Sunday  service  no  man  knows 
how  many  years,  contemplated  the  marvelous  stove 
pipe  hat  of  still  more  ancient  and  venerable  pattern, 
with  its  poor  pathetic  old  stiff  brim  canted  up  "  gal- 
lusly  "  in  the  wrong  places,  and  said,  with  a  hesitation 
that  indicated  strong  internal  effort  to  "place"  the 


278  Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion 

gentle  old   apparition,  "  Why let  me  see 

plague   on   it there's   something'  about   you  that 

er er but  I've  been  gone  from  Ber 
muda    for    twenty-seven   years,    and hum,    hum 

I  don't  seem  to   get  at  it,  somehow,  but  there's 

something  about  you   that   is    just   as   familiar   to   me 
as—" 

14  Likely  it  might   be   his  hat,"  murmured  the  Ass, 
with  innocent,  sympathetic  interest. 


III. 

So  the  Reverend  and  I  had  at  last  arrived  at  Hamil 
ton,  the  principal  town  in  the  Bermuda  Islands.  A 
wonderfully  white  town ;  white  as  snow  itself.  White 
as  marble ;  white  as  flour.  Yet  looking  like  none  of 
these,  exactly.  Never  mind,  we  said;  we  shall  hit 
upon  a  figure  by  and  by  that  will  describe  this  peculiar 
white. 

It  was  a  town  that  was  compacted  together  upon  the 
sides  and  tops  of  a  cluster  of  small  hills.  Its  outlying 
borders  fringed  off  and  thinned  away  among  the  cedar 
forests,  and  there  was  no  woody  distance  of  curving 
coast,  or  leafy  islet  sleeping  upon  the  dimpled,  painted 
sea,  but  was  flecked  with  shining  white  points  —  half- 
concealed  houses  peeping  out  of  the  foliage.  The 
architecture  of  the  town  was  mainly  Spanish,  inherited 
from  the  colonists  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago. 
Some  ragged-topped  cocoa-palms,  glimpsed  here  and 
there,  gave  the  land  a  tropical  aspect. 

There  was  an  ample  pier  of  heavy  masonry;  upon 
this,  under  shelter,  were  some  thousands  of  barrels  con 
taining  that  product  which  has  carried  the  fame  of  Ber 
muda  to  many  lands,  the  potato.  With  here  and  there 


WE    CATCHED    FISH 


Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion  279 

an  onion.  That  last  sentence  is  facetious;  for  they 
grow  at  least  two  onions  in  Bermuda  to  one  potato. 
The  onion  is  the  pride  and  joy  of  Bermuda.  It  is  her 
jewel,  her  gem  of  gems.  In  her  conversation,  her  pul 
pit,  her  literature,  it  is  her  most  frequent  and  eloquent 
figure.  In  Bermuda  metaphor  it  stands  for  perfection 
—  perfection  absolute. 

The  Bermudian  weeping  over  the  departed  exhausts 
praise  when  he  says,  "He  was  an  onion!"  The 
Bermudian  extolling  the  living  hero  bankrupts  applause 
when  he  says,  "He  is  an  onion!"  The  Bermudian 
setting  his  son  upon  the  stage  of  life  to  dare  and  do  for 
himself  climaxes  all  counsel,  supplication,  admonition, 
comprehends  all  ambition,  when  he  says,  "Be  an 


onion  !' 


When  parallel  with  the  pier,  and  ten  or  fifteen  steps 
outside  it,  we  anchored.  It  was  Sunday,  bright  and 
sunny.  The  groups  upon  the  pier  —  men,  youths,  and 
boys  —  were  whites  and  blacks  in  about  equal  propor 
tion.  All  were  well  and  neatly  dressed,  many  of  them 
nattily,  a  few  of  them  very  stylishly.  One  would  have 
to  travel  far  before  he  would  find  another  town  of 
twelve  thousand  inhabitants  that  could  represent  itself 
so  respectably,  in  the  matter  of  clothes,  on  a  freight 
pier,  without  premeditation  or  effort.  The  women  and 
young  girls,  black  and  white,  who  occasionally  passed 
by,  were  nicely  clad,  and  many  were  elegantly  and 
fashionably  so.  The  men  did  not  affect  summer  cloth 
ing  much,  but  the  girls  and  women  did,  and  their  white 
garments  were  good  to  look  at,  after  so  many  months 
of  familiarity  with  somber  colors. 

Around  one  isolated  potato  barrel  stood  four  young 
gentlemen,  two  black,  two  white,  becomingly  dressed, 
each  with  the  head  of  a  slender  cane  pressed  against  his 
teeth,  and  each  with  a  foot  propped  up  on  the  barrel. 
Another  young  gentleman  came  up,  looked  longingly 


280  Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion 

at  the  barrel,  but  saw  no  rest  for  his  foot  there,  and 
turned  pensively  away  to  seek  another  barrel.  He 
wandered  here  and  there,  but  without  result.  Nobody 
sat  upon  a  barrel,  as  is  the  custom  of  the  idle  in  other 
lands,  yet  all  the  isolated  barrels  were  humanly  occu 
pied.  Whosoever  had  a  foot  to  spare  put  it  on  a  bar 
rel,  if  all  the  places  on  it  were  not  already  taken.  The 
habits  of  all  peoples  are  determined  by  their  circum 
stances.  The  Bermudians  lean  upon  barrels  because 
of  the  scarcity  of  lamp-posts. 

Many  citizens  came  on  board  and  spoke  eagerly  to  the 
officers  —  inquiring  about  the  Turco-Russian  war  news, 
I  supposed.  However,  by  listening  judiciously  I  found 
that  this  was  not  so.  They  said,  "What  is  the  price 
of  onions?"  or,  "  How's  onions?"  Naturally  enough 
this  was  their  first  interest ;  but  they  dropped  into  the 
war  the  moment  it  was  satisfied. 

We  went  ashore  and  found  a  novelty  of  a  pleasant 
nature:  there  were  no  hackmen,  hacks,  or  omnibuses 
on  the  pier  or  about  it  anywhere,  and  nobody  offered 
his  services  to  us,  or  molested  us  in  any  way.  I  said 
it  was  like  being  in  heaven.  The  Reverend  rebukingly 
and  rather  pointedly  advised  me  to  make  the  most  of 
it,  then.  We  knew  of  a  boarding-house,  and  what  we 
needed  now  was  somebody  to  pilot  us  to  it.  Presently 
a  little  barefooted  colored  boy  came  along,  whose  rag- 
gedness  was  conspicuously  un-Bermudian.  His  rear 
was  so  marvelously  bepatched  with  colored  squares  and 
triangles  that  one  was  half  persuaded  he  had  got  it  out 
of  an  atlas.  When  the  sun  struck  him  right,  he  was 
as  good  to  follow  as  a  lightning-bug.  We  hired  him 
and  dropped  into  his  wake.  He  piloted  us  through  one 
picturesque  street  after  another,  and  in  due  course  de 
posited  us  where  we  belonged.  He  charged  nothing 
for  his  map,  and  but  a  trifle  for  his  services:  so  the 
Reverend  doubled  it.  The  little  chap  received  the 


Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion  281 

money  with  a  beaming  applause  in  his  eye  which 
plainly  said,  "  This  man's  an  onion  !" 

We  had  brought  no  letters  of  introduction ;  our 
names  had  been  misspelt  in  the  passenger  list;  nobody 
knew  whether  we  were  honest  folk  or  otherwise.  So 
we  were  expecting  to  have  a  good  private  time  in  case 
there  was  nothing  in  our  general  aspect  to  close  board 
ing-house  doors  against  us.  We  had  no  trouble. 
Bermuda  has  had  but  little  experience  of  rascals,  and 
is  not  suspicious.  We  got  large,  cool,  well-lighted 
rooms  on  a  second  floor,  overlooking  a  bloomy  display 
of  flowers  and  flowering  shrubs, —  calla  and  annuncia 
tion  lilies,  lantanas,  heliotrope,  jessamine,  roses,  pinks, 
double  geraniums,  oleanders,  pomegranates,  blue  morn 
ing-glories  of  a  great  size,  and  many  plants  that  were 
unknown  to  me. 

We  took  a  long  afternoon  walk,  and  soon  found  out 
that  that  exceedingly  white  town  was  built  of  blocks  of 
white  coral.  Bermuda  is  a  coral  island,  with  a  six-inch 
crust  of  soil  on  top  of  it,  and  every  man  has  a  quarry 
on  his  own  premises.  Everywhere  you  go  you  see 
square  recesses  cut  into  the  hillsides,  with  perpendicular 
walls  unmarred  by  crack  or  crevice,  and  perhaps  you 
fancy  that  a  house  grew  out  of  the  ground  there,  and 
has  been  removed  in  a  single  piece  from  the  mould. 
If  you  do,  you  err.  But  the  material  for  a  house  has 
been  quarried  there.  They  cut  right  down  through  the 
coral,  to  any  depth  that  is  convenient  —  ten  to  twenty 
feet  —  and  take  it  out  in  great  square  blocks.  This 
cutting  is  done  with  a  chisel  that  has  a  handle  twelve  or 
fifteen  feet  long,  and  is  used  as  one  uses  a  crowbar 
when  he  is  drilling  a  hole,  or  a  dasher  when  he  is  churn 
ing.  Thus  soft  is  this  stone.  Then  with  a  common 
handsaw  they  saw  the  great  blocks  into  handsome, 
huge  bricks  that  are  two  feet  long,  a  foot  wide,  and 
about  six  inches  thick.  These  stand  loosely  piled 


282  Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion 

during  a  month  to  harden ;  then  the  work  of  building 
begins. 

The  house  is  built  of  these  blocks ;  it  is  roofed  with 
broad  coral  slabs  an  inch  thick,  whose  edges  lap  upon 
each  other,  so  that  the  roof  looks  like  a  succession  of 
shallow  steps  or  terraces ;  the  chimneys  are  built  of  the 
coral  blocks,  and  sawed  into  graceful  and  picturesque 
patterns;  the  ground-flour  veranda  is  paved  with  coral 
blocks :  also  the  walk  to  the  gate ;  the  fence  is  built  of 
coral  blocks  —  built  in  massive  panels,  with  broad  cap 
stones  and  heavy  gateposts,  and  the  whole  trimmed 
into  easy  lines  and  comely  shape  with  the  saw.  Then 
they  put  a  hard  coat  of  whitewash,  as  thick  as  your 
thumb  nail,  on  the  fence  and  all  over  the  house,  roof, 
chimneys,  and  all ;  the  sun  comes  out  and  shines  on 
this  spectacle,  and  it  is  time  for  you  to  shut  your  unac 
customed  eyes,  lest  they  be  put  out.  It  is  the  whitest 
white  you  can  conceive  of,  and  the  blindingest.  A 
Bermuda  house  does  not  look  like  marble ;  it  is  a  much 
intenser  white  than  that;  and,  besides,  there  is  a  dainty, 
indefinable  something  else  about  its  look  that  is  not 
marble-like.  We  put  in  a  great  deal  of  solid  talk  and 
reflection  over  this  matter  of  trying  to  find  a  figure  that 
would  describe  the  unique  white  of  a  Bermuda  house, 
and  we  contrived  to  hit  upon  it  at  last.  It  is  exactly  the 
white  of  the  icing  of  a  cake,  and  has  the  same  un- 
emphasized  and  scarcely  perceptible  polish.  The  white 
of  marble  is  modest  and  retiring  compared  with  it. 

After  the  house  is  cased  in  its  hard  scale  of  white 
wash,  not  a  crack,  or  sign  of  a  seam,  or  joining  of  the 
blocks  is  detectable,  from  base-stone  to  chimney-top ; 
the  building  looks  as  if  it  had  been  carved  from  a  single 
block  of  stone,  and  the  doors  and  windows  sawed  out 
afterwards.  A  white  marble  house  has  a  cold,  tomb- 
like,  unsociable  look,  and  takes  the  conversation  out  of 
a  body  and  depresses  him.  Not  so  with  a  Bermuda 


Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion  283 

house.  There  is  something  exhilarating,  even  hilarious, 
about  its  vivid  whiteness  when  the  sun  plays  upon  it. 
If  it  be  of  picturesque  shape  and  graceful  contour  — 
and  many  of  the  Bermudian  dwellings  are  —  it  will  so 
fascinate  you  that  you  will  keep  your  eyes  on  it  until 
they  ache.  One  of  those  clean-cut,  fanciful  chimneys 
• — too  pure  and  white  for  this  world  —  with  one  side 
glowing  in  the  sun  and  the  other  touched  with  a  soft 
shadow,  is  an  object  that  will  charm  one's  gaze  by  the 
hour.  I  know  of  no  other  country  that  has  chimneys 
worthy  to  be  gazed  at  and  gloated  over.  One  of  those 
snowy  houses,  half  concealed  and  half  glimpsed  through 
green  foliage,  is  a  pretty  thing  to  see;  and  if  it  takes 
one  by  surprise  and  suddenly,  as  he  turns  a  sharp 
corner  of  a  country  road,  it  will  wring  an  exclamation 
from  him,  sure. 

Wherever  you  go,  in  town  or  country,  you  find  those 
snowy  houses,  and  always  with  masses  of  bright-colored 
flowers  about  them,  but  with  no  vines  climbing  their 
walls;  vines  cannot  take  hold  of  the  smooth,  hard 
whitewash.  Wherever  you  go,  in  the  town  or  along 
the  country  roads,  among  little  potato  farms  and 
patches  or  expensive  country  seats,  these  stainless  white 
dwellings,  gleaming  out  from  flowers  and  foliage,  meet 
you  at  every  turn.  The  least  little  bit  of  a  cottage  is 
as  white  and  blemishless  as  the  stateliest  mansion. 
Nowhere  is  there  dirt  or  stench,  puddle  or  hog-wallow, 
neglect,  disorder,  or  lack  of  trimness  and  neatness. 
The  roads,  the  streets,  the  dwellings,  the  people,  the 
clothes, —  this  neatness  extends  to  everything  that  falls 
under  the  eye.  It  is  the  tidiest  country  in  the  world. 
And  very  much  the  tidiest,  too. 

Considering  these  things,  the  question  came  up, 
Where  do  the  poor  live?  No  answer  was  arrived  at. 
Therefore,  we  agreed  to  leave  this  conundrum  for 
future  statesmen  to  wrangle  over. 


284  Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion 

What  a  bright  and  startling  spectacle  one  of  those 
blazing  white  country  palaces,  with  its  brown-tinted 
window  caps  and  ledges,  and  green  shutters,  and  its 
wealth  of  caressing  flowers  and  foliage,  would  be  in 
black  London  !  And  what  a  gleaming  surprise  it  would 
be  in  nearly  any  American  city  one  could  mention,  too  ! 

Bermuda  roads  are  made  by  cutting  down  a  few 
inches  into  the  solid  white  coral  —  or  a  good  many 
feet,  where  a  hill  intrudes  itself — and  smoothing  off 
the  surface  of  the  roadbed.  It  is  a  simple  and  easy 
process.  The  grain  of  the  coral  is  coarse  and  porous; 
the  roadbed  has  the  look  of  being  made  of  coarse  white 
sugar.  Its  excessive  cleanness  and  whiteness  are  a 
trouble  in  one  way :  the  sun  is  reflected  into  your  eyes 
with  such  energy  as  you  walk  along  that  you  want  to 
sneeze  all  the  time.  Old  Captain  Tom  Bowling  found 
another  difficulty.  He  joined  us  in  our  walk,  but  kept 
wandering  unrestfully  to  the  roadside.  Finally  he  ex 
plained.  Said  he,  "Well,  I  chew,  you  know,  and  the 
road's  so  plaguy  clean." 

We  walked  several  miles  that  afternoon  in  the  be 
wildering  glare  of  the  sun,  the  white  roads,  and  the 
white  buildings.  Our  eyes  got  to  paining  us  a  good 
deal.  By  and  by  a  soothing,  blessed  twilight  spread  its 
cool  balm  around.  We  looked  up  in  pleased  surprise 
and  saw  that  it  proceeded  from  an  intensely  black  negro 
who  was  going  by.  We  answered  his  military  salute 
in  the  grateful  gloom  of  his  near  presence,  and  then 
passed  on  into  the  pitiless  white  glare  again. 

The  colored  women  whom  we  met  usually  bowed  and 
spoke ;  so  did  the  children.  The  colored  men  com 
monly  gave  the  military  salute.  They  borrow  this  fash 
ion  from  the  soldiers,  no  doubt;  England  has  kept  a 
garrison  here  for  generations.  The  younger  men's 
custom  of  carrying  small  canes  is  also  borrowed  from 
the  soldiers,  I  suppose,  who  always  carry  a  cane,  in 


Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion  285 

Bermuda  as  everywhere  else  in  Britain's  broad  domin 
ions. 

The  country  roads  curve  and  wind  hither  and  thither 
in  the  delightfulest  way,  unfolding  pretty  surprises  at 
every  turn :  billowy  masses  of  oleander  that  seem  to 
float  out  from  behind  distant  projections  like  the  pink 
cloud-banks  of  sunset;  sudden  plunges  among  cottages 
and  gardens,  life  and  activity,  followed  by  as  sudden 
plunges  into  the  somber  twilight  and  stillness  of  the 
woods;  flitting  visions  of  white  fortresses  and  beacon 
towers  pictured  against  the  sky  on  remote  hilltops ; 
glimpses  of  shining  green  sea  caught  for  a  moment 
through  opening  headlands,  then  lost  again;  more 
woods  and  solitude;  and  by  and  'by  another  turn  lays 
bare,  without  warning,  the  full  sweep  of  the  inland 
ocean,  enriched  with  its  bars  of  soft  color  and  graced 
with  its  wandering  sails. 

Take  any  road  you  please,  you  may  depend  upon  it 
you  will  not  stay  in  it  half  a  mile.  Your  road  is  every 
thing  that  a  road  ought  to  be :  it  is  bordered  with 
trees,  and  with  strange  plants  and  flowers ;  it  is  shady 
and  pleasant,  or  sunny  and  still  pleasant ;  it  carries  you 
by  the  prettiest  and  peacefulest  and  most  homelike  of 
homes,  and  through  stretches  of  forest  that  lie  in  a  deep 
hush  sometimes,  and  sometimes  are  alive  with  the  music 
of  birds ;  it  curves  always,  which  is  a  continual  promise, 
whereas  straight  roads  reveal  everything  at  a  glance  and 
kill  interest.  Your  road  is  all  this,  and  yet  you  will 
not  stay  in  it  half  a  mile,  for  the  reason  that  little  se 
ductive,  mysterious  roads  are  always  branching  out  from 
it  on  either  hand,  and  as  these  curve  sharply  also  and 
hide  what  is  beyond,  you  cannot  resist  the  temptation 
to  desert  your  own  chosen  road  and  explore  them. 
You  are  usually  paid  for  your  trouble ;  consequently, 
your  walk  inland  always  turns  out  to  be  one  of  the 
most  crooked,  involved,  purposeless,  and  interesting 


286  Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion 

experiences  a  body  can  imagine.  There  is  enough  of 
variety.  Sometimes  you  are  in  the  level  open,  with 
marshes  thick  grown  with  flag-lances  that  are  ten  feet 
high  on  the  one  hand,  and  potato  and  onion  orchards 
on  the  other;  next,  you  are  on  a  hilltop,  with  the 
ocean  and  the  islands  spread  around  you  ;  presently  the 
road  winds  through  a  deep  cut,  shut  in  by  perpendicu 
lar  walls  thirty  or  forty  feet  high,  marked  with  the  odd 
est  and  abruptest  stratum  lines,  suggestive  of  sudden 
and  eccentric  old  upheavals,  and  garnished  with  here 
and  there  a  clinging  adventurous  flower,  and  here  and 
there  a  dangling  vine ;  and  by  and  by  your  way  is  along 
the  sea  edge,  and  you  may  look  down  a  fathom  or  two 
through  the  transparent  water  and  watch  the  diamond- 
like  flash  and  play  of  the  light  upon  the  rocks  and  sands 
on  the  bottom  until  you  are  tired  of  it  —  if  you  are  so 
constituted  as  to  be  able  to  get  tired  of  it. 

You  may  march  the  country  roads  in  maiden  medita 
tion,  fancy  free,  by  field  and  farm,  for  no  dog  will 
plunge  out  at  you  from  unsuspected  gate,  with  breath 
taking  surprise  of  ferocious  bark,  notwithstanding  it  is 
a  Christian  land  and  a  civilized.  We  saw  upwards  of  a 
million  cats  in  Bermuda,  but  the  people  are  very  ab 
stemious  in  the  matter  of  dogs.  Two  or  three  nights 
we  prowled  the  country  far  and  wide,  and  never  once 
were  accosted  by  a  dog.  It  is  a  great  privilege  to  visit 
such  a  land.  The  cats  were  no  offense  when  properly 
distributed,  but  when  piled  they  obstructed  travel. 

As  we  entered  the  edge  of  the  town  that  Sunday 
afternoon,  we  stopped  at  a  cottage  to  get  a  drink  of 
water.  The  proprietor,  a  middle-aged  man  with  a 
good  face,  asked  us  to  sit  down  and  rest.  His  dame 
brought  chairs,  and  we  grouped  ourselves  in  the  shade 
of  the  trees  by  the  door.  Mr.  Smith  —  that  was  not 
his  name,  but  it  will  answer — 'questioned  us  about  our 
selves  and  our  country,  and  we  answered  him  truthfully, 


Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion  287 

as  a  general  thing,  and  questioned  him  in  return.  It 
was  all  very  simple  and  pleasant  and  sociable.  Rural, 
too ;  for  there  was  a  pig  and  a  small  donkey  and  a  hen 
anchored  out,  close  at  hand,  by  cords  to  their  legs,  on 
a  spot  that  purported  to  be  grassy.  Presently,  a 
woman  passed  along,  and  although  she  coldly  said  noth 
ing  she  changed  the  drift  of  our  talk.  Said  Smith : 

"  She  didn't  look  this  way,  you  noticed?  Well,  she 
is  our  next  neighbor  on  one  side,  and  there's  another 
family  that's  our  next  neighbors  on  the  other  side;  but 
there's  a  general  coolness  all  around  now,  and  we  don't 
speak.  Yet  these  three  families,  one  generation  and 
another,  have  lived  here  side  by  side  and  been  as 
friendly  as  weavers  for  a  hundred  and  fifty  years,  till 
about  a  year  ago." 

"Why,  what  calamity  could  have  been  powerful 
enough  to  break  up  so  old  a  friendship?" 

"  Well,  it  was  too  bad,  but  it  couldn't  be  helped.  It 
happened  like  this :  About  a  year  or  more  ago,  the 
rats  got  to  pestering  my  place  a  good  deal,  and  I  set  up 
a  steel  trap  in  my  back-yard.  Both  of  these  neighbors 
run  considerable  to  cats,  and  so  I  warned  them  about 
the  trap,  because  their  cats  were  pretty  sociable  around 
here  nights,  ami  they  might  get  into  trouble  without  my 
intending  it.  Well,  they  shut  up  their  cats  for  a  while, 
but  you  know  how  it  is  with  people ;  they  got  careless, 
and  sure  enough  one  night  the  trap  took  Mrs.  Jones's 
principal  tomcat  into  camp  and  finished  him  up.  In 
the  morning  Mrs.  Jones  comes  here  with  the  corpse  in 
her  arms,  and  cries  and  takes  on  the  same  as  if  it  was  a 
child.  It  was  a  cat  by  the  name  of  Yelverton  —  Hector 
G.  Yelverton  —  a  troublesome  old  rip,  with  no  more 
principle  than  an  Injun,  though  you  couldn't  make  her 
believe  it.  I  said  all  a  man  could  to  comfort  her,  but 
no,  nothing  would  do  but  I  must  pay  for  him.  Finally, 
1  said  I  warn't  investing  in  cats  now  as  much  as  I  was, 

19 


288  Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion 

and  with  that  she  walked  off  in  a  huff,  carrying  the  re 
mains  with  her.  That  closed  our  intercourse  with  the 
Joneses.  Mrs.  Jones  joined  another  church  and  took 
her  tribe  with  her.  She  said  she  would  not  hold  fellow 
ship  with  assassins.  Well,  by  and  by  comes  Mrs. 
Brown's  turn  —  she  that  went  by  here  a  minute  ago. 
She  had  a  disgraceful  old  yellow  cat  that  she  thought  as 
much  of  as  if  he  was  twins,  and  one  night  he  tried  that 
trap  on  his  neck,  and  it  fitted  him  so,  and  was  so  sort 
of  satisfactory,  that  he  laid  down  and  curled  up  and 
stayed  with  it.  Such  was  the  end  of  Sir  John 
Baldwin." 

"Was  that  the  name  of  the  cat?" 

11  The  same.  There's  cats  around  herewith  names 
that  would  surprise  you.  Maria"  (to  his  wife), 
"  what  was  that  cat's  name  that  eat  a  keg  of  ratsbane 
by  mistake  over  at  Hooper's,  and  started  home  and  got 
struck  by  lightning  and  took  the  blind  staggers  and  fell 
in  the  well  and  was  most  drowned  before  they  could 
fish  him  out?" 

'That  was  that  colored  Deacon  Jackson's  cat.  I 
only  remember  the  last  end  of  its  name,  which  was 
Hold-The-Fort-For-I-Am-Coming  Jackson. ' ' 

"  Sho  !  that  ain't  the  one.  That's  the  one  that  eat 
up  an  entire  box  of  Seidlitz  powders,  and  then  hadn't 
any  more  judgment  than  to  go  and  take  a  drink.  He 
was  considered  to  be  a  great  loss,  but  I  never  could  see 
it.  Well,  no  matter  about  the  names.  Mrs.  Brown 
wanted  to  be  reasonable,  but  Mrs.  Jones  wouldn't  let 
her.  She  put  her  up  to  going  to  law  for  damages.  So 
to  law  she  went,  and  had  the  face  to  claim  seven  shil 
lings  and  sixpence.  It  made  a  great  stir.  All  the 
neighbors  went  to  court.  Everybody  took  sides.  It 
got  hotter  and  hotter,  and  broke  up  all  the  friendships 
for  three  hundred  yards  around  —  friendships  that  had 
lasted  for  generations  and  generations. 


Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion  289 

"  Well,  I  proved  by  eleven  witnesses  that  the  cat  was 
of  a  low  character  and  very  ornery,  and  warn't  worth 
a  canceled  postage-stamp,  anyway,  taking  the  average 
of  cats  here;  but  I  lost  the  case.  What  could  I  ex 
pect?  The  system  is  all  wrong  here,  and  is  bound  to 
make  revolution  and  bloodshed  some  day.  You  see, 
they  give  the  magistrate  a  poor  little  starvation  salary, 
and  then  turn  him  loose  on  the  public  to  gouge  for  fees 
and  costs  to  live  on.  What  is  the  natural  result? 
Why,  he  never  looks  into  the  justice  of  a  case  —  never 
once.  All  he  looks  at  is  which  client  has  got  the 
money.  So  this  one  piled  the  fees  and  costs  and  every 
thing  on  to  me.  I  could  pay  specie,  don't  you  see? 
and  he  knew  mighty  well  that  if  he  put  the  verdict 
on  to  Mrs.  Brown,  where  it  belonged,  he'd  have  to  take 
his  swag  in  currency." 

"  Currency?  Why,  has  Bermuda  a  currency?" 
'Yes  —  onions.  And  they  were  forty  per  cent, 
discount,  too,  then,  because  the  season  had  been  over 
as  much  as  three  months.  So  I  lost  my  case.  I  had 
to  pay  for  that  cat.  But  the  general  trouble  the  case 
made  was  the  worst  thing  about  it.  Broke  up  so  much 
good  feeling.  The  neighbors  don't  speak  to  each  other 
now.  Mrs.  Brown  had  named  a  child  after  me.  But 
she  changed  its  name  right  away.  She  is  a  Baptist. 
Well,  in  the  course  of  baptizing  it  over  again,  it  got 
drowned.  I  was  hoping  we  might  get  to  be  friendly 
again  some  time  or  other,  but  of  course  this  drowning 
the  child  knocked  that  all  out  of  the  question.  It 
would  have  saved  a  world  of  heart-break  and  ill  blood 
if  she  had  named  it  dry." 

I  knew  by  the  sigh  that  this  was  honest.  All  this 
trouble  and  all  this  destruction  of  confidence  in  the 
purity  of  the  bench  on  account  of  a  seven-shilling  law 
suit  about  a  cat!  Somehow,  it  seemed  to  "  size  "  the 
country. 
19** 


290  Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion 

At  this  point  we  observed  that  an  English  flag  had 
just  been  placed  at  half-mast  on  a  building  a  hundred 
yards  away.  I  and  my  friends  were  busy  in  an  instant 
trying  to  imagine  whose  death,  among  the  island  dig 
nitaries,  could  command  such  a  mark  of  respect  as  this. 
Then  a  shudder  shook  them  and  me  at  the-  same 
moment,  and  I  knew  that  we  had  jumped  to  one  and 
the  same  conclusion :  '  The  governor  has  gone  to 
England ;  it  is  for  the  British  admiral !" 

At  this  moment  Mr.  Smith  noticed  the  flag.  He 
said  with  emotion : 

"That's  on  a  boarding-house.  I  judge  there's  a 
boarder  dead." 

A  dozen  other  flags  within  view  went  to  half-mast. 

"  It's  a  boarder,  sure,"  said  Smith. 

"But  would  they  half-mast  the  flags  here  for  a 
boarder,  Mr.  Smith?" 

"  Why,  certainly  they  would,  if  he  was  dead." 

That  seemed  to  size  the  country  again. 


IV. 

THE  early  twilight  of  a  Sunday  evening  in  Hamilton, 
Bermuda,  is  an  alluring  time.  There  is  just  enough  of 
whispering  breeze,  fragrance  of  flowers,  and  sense  of 
repose  to  raise  one's  thoughts  heavenward;  and  just 
enough  amateur  piano  music  to  keep  him  reminded  of 
the  other  place.  There  are  many  venerable  pianos  in 
Hamilton,  and  they  all  play  at  twilight.  Age  enlarges 
and  enriches  the  powers  of  some  musical  instruments 
—  notably  those  of  the  violin  —  but  it  seems  to  set  a 
piano's  teeth  on  edge.  Most  of  the  music  in  vogue 
there  is  the  same  that  those  pianos  prattled  in  their  in 
nocent  infancy;  and  there  is  something  very  pathetic 


Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion  291 

about  it  when  they  go  over  it  now,  in  their  asthmatic 
second  childhood,  dropping  a  note  here  and  there, 
where  a  tooth  is  gone. 

We  attended  evening  service  at  the  stately  Episcopal 
church  on  the  hill,  where  were  five  or  six  hundred 
people,  half  of  them  white  and  the  other  half  black, 
according  to  the  usual  Bermudian  proportions ;  and  all 
well  dressed  —  a  thing  which  is  also  usual  in  Bermuda 
and  to  be  confidently  expected.  There  was  good 
music,  which  we  heard,  and  doubtless  a  good  sermon, 
but  there  was  a  wonderful  deal  of  coughing,  and  so 
only  the  high  parts  of  the  argument  carried  over  it. 
&s  we  came  out,  after  service,  I  overheard  one  young 
girl  says  to  another : 

"Why,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you  pay  duty  on 
gloves  and  laces !  I  only  pay  postage ;  have  them 
done  up  and  sent  in  the  Boston  Advertiser." 

There  are  those  that  believe  that  the  most  difficult 
thing  to  create  is  a  woman  who  can  comprehend  that  it 
is  wrong  to  smuggle ;  and  that  an  impossible  thing  to 
create  is  a  woman  who  will  not  smuggle,  whether  or 
no,  when  she  gets  a  chance.  But  these  may  be  errors. 

We  went  wandering  off  toward  the  country,  and  were 
soon  far  down  in  the  lonely  black  depths  of  a  road  that 
was  roofed  over  with  the  dense  foliage  of  a  double  rank 
of  great  cedars.  There  was  no  sound  of  any  kind 
there,  it  was  perfectly  still.  And  it  was  so  dark  that 
one  could  detect  nothing  but  somber  outlines.  We 
strode  farther  and  farther  down  this  tunnel,  cheering 
the  way  with  chat. 

Presently  the  chat  took  this  shape  :  * '  How  insensibly 
the  character  of  the  people  and  of  a  government  makes 
its  impress  upon  a  stranger,  and  gives  him  a  sense  of 
security  or  of  insecurity  without  his  taking  deliberate 
thought  upon  the  matter  or  asking  anybody  a  question  J 
We  have  been  in  this  land  half  a  day ;  we  have  seen 


292  Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion 

none  but  honest  faces ;  we  have  noted  the  British  flag 
flying,  which  means  efficient  government  and  good 
order ;  so  without  inquiry  we  plunge  unarmed  and  with 
perfect  confidence  into  this  dismal  place,  which  in 
almost  any  other  country  would  swarm  with  thugs  and 
garroters  — ' ' 

"Sh!  What  was  that?  Stealthy  footsteps !  Low 
voices !  We  gasp,  we  close  up  together,  and  wait. 
A  vague  shape  glides  out  of  the  dusk  and  confronts  us. 
A  voice  speaks  —  demands  money  ! 

"A  shilling,  gentlemen,  if  you  please,  to  help  build 
the  new  Methodist  church." 

Blessed  sound  !  Holy  sound  !  We  contribute  with 
thankful  avidity  to  the  new  Methodist  church,  and  are 
happy  to  think  how  lucky  it  was  that  those  little  colored 
Sunday-school  scholars  did  not  seize  upon  everything 
we  had  with  violence,  before  we  recovered  from  our 
momentary  helpless  condition.  By  the  light  of  cigars 
we  write  down  the  names  of  weightier  philanthropists 
than  ourselves  on  the  contribution  cards,  and  then  pass 
on  into  the  farther  darkness,  saying,  What  sort  of  a 
government  do  they  call  this,  where  they  allow  little 
black  pious  children,  with  contribution  cards,  to  plunge 
out  upon  peaceable  strangers  in  the  dark  and  scare 
them  to  death? 

We  prowled  on  several  hours,  sometimes  by  the  sea 
side,  sometimes  inland,  and  finally  managed  to  get  lost, 
which  is  a  feat  that  requires  talent  in  Bermuda.  I  had 
on  new  shoes.  They  were  No.  7's  when  I  started,  but 
were  not  more  than  5's  now,  and  still  diminishing.  I 
walked  two  hours  in  those  shoes  after  that,  before  we 
reached  home.  Doubtless  I  could  have  the  reader's 
sympathy  for  the  asking.  Many  people  have  never  had 
the  headache  or  the  toothache,  and  I  am  one  of  those 
myself;  but  everybody  has  worn  tight  shoes  for  two  or 
three  hours,  and  known  the  luxury  of  taking  them  off 


Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion  293 

in  a  retired  place  and  seeing  his  feet  swell  up  and  ob- 
secure  the  firmament.  Once  when  I  was  a  callow,  bash 
ful  cub,  I  took  a  plain,  unsentimental  country  girl  to  a 
comedy  one  night.  I  had  known  her  a  day;  she 
seemed  divine;  I  wore  my  new  boots.  At  the  end  of 
the  first  half-hour  she  said,  "Why  do  you  fidget  so 
with  your  feet?"  I  said,  "  Did  I?"  Then  I  put  my 
attention  there  and  kept  still.  At  the  end  of  another 
half-hour  she  said,  "  Why  do  you  say,  *  Yes,  oh  yes  !' 
and  'Ha,  ha,  oh,  certainly!  very  true!'  to  everything 
I  say,  when  half  the  time  those  are  entirely  irrelevant 
answers?"  I  blushed,  and  explained  that  I  had  been  a 
little  absent-minded.  At  the  end  of  another  half-hour 
she  said,  "  Please,  why  do  you  grin  so  steadfastly  at 
vacancy,  and  yet  look  so  sad?"  I  explained  that  I 
always  did  that  when  I  was  reflecting.  An  hour  passed, 
and  then  she  turned  and  contemplated  me  with  her 
earnest  eyes  and  said,  "  Why  do  you  cry  all  the  time?" 
I  explained  that  very  funny  comedies  always  made  me 
cry.  At  last  human  nature  surrendered,  and  I  secretly 
slipped  my  boots  off.  This  was  a  mistake.  I  was  not 
able  to  get  them  on  any  more.  It  was  a  rainy  night; 
there  were  no  omnibuses  going  our  way;  and  as  I 
walked  home,  burning  up  with  shame,  with  the  girl  on 
one  arm  and  my  boots  under  the  other,  I  was  an  object 
worthy  of  some  compassion  —  especially  in  those 
moments  of  martyrdom  when  I  had  to  pass  through 
the  glare  that  fell  upon  the  pavement  from  street 
lamps.  Finally,  this  child  of  the  forest  said,  "  Where 
are  your  boots?"  and  being  taken  unprepared,  I  put  a 
fitting  finish  to  the  follies  of  the  evening  with  the  stupid 
remark,  ' '  The  higher  classes  do  not  wear  them  to  the 
theater." 

The  Reverend  had  been  an  army  chaplain  during  the 
war,  and  while  we  were  hunting  for  a  road  that  would 


294  Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion 

lead  to  Hamilton  he  told  a  story  about  two  dying  soldiers 
which  interested  me  in  spite  of  my  feet.  He  said  that 
in  the  Potomac  hospitals  rough  pine  coffins  were  fur 
nished  by  government,  but  that  it  was  not  always  pos 
sible  to  keep  up  with  the  demand;  so,  when  a  man 
died,  if  there  was  no  coffin  at  hand  he  was  buried  with 
out  one.  One  night,  late,  two  soldiers  lay  dying  in  a 
ward.  A  man  came  in  with  a  coffin  on  his  shoulder, 
and  stood  trying  to  make  up  his  mind  which  of  these 
two  poor  fellows  would  be  likely  to  need  it  first.  Both 
of  them  begged  for  it  with  their  fading  eyes  —  they 
were  past  talking.  Then  one  of  them  protruded  a 
wasted  hand  from  his  blankets  and  made  a  feeble  beck 
oning  sign  with  the  fingers,  to  signify,  "  Be  a  good  fel 
low;  put  it  under  my  bed,  please."  The  man  did  it, 
and  left.  The  lucky  soldier  painfully  turned  himself  in 
his  bed  until  he  faced  the  other  warrior,  raised  himself 
partly  on  his  elbow,  and  began  to  work  up  a  mysterious 
expression  of  some  kind  in  his  face.  Gradually,  irk 
somely,  but  surely  and  steadily,  it  developed,  and  at 
last  it  took  definite  form  as  a  pretty  successful  wink. 
The  sufferer  fell  back  exhausted  with  his  labor,  but 
bathed  in  glory.  Now  entered  a  personal  friend  of 
No.  2,  the  despoiled  soldier.  No.  2  pleaded  with  him 
with  eloquent  eyes,  till  presently  he  understood,  and  re 
moved  the  coffin  from  under  No.  I's  bed  and  put  it 
under  No.  2's.  No.  2  indicated  his  joy,  and  made 
some  more  signs;  the  friend  understood  again,  and  put 
his  arm  under  No.  2's  shoulders  and  lifted  him  partly 
up.  Then  the  dying  hero  turned  the  dim  exultation  of 
his  eye  upon  No.  I,  and  began  a  slow  and  labored 
work  with  his  hands ;  gradually  he  lifted  one  hand  up 
toward  his  face ;  it  grew  weak  and  dropped  back  again  ; 
once  more  he  made  the  effort,  but  failed  again.  He 
took  a  rest;  he  gathered  all  the  remnant  of  his  strength, 
and  this  time  he  slowly  but  surely  carried  his  thumb  to 


Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion  295 

the  side  of  his  nose,  spread  the  gaunt  fingers  wide  in 
triumph,  and  dropped  back  dead.  That  picture  sticks 
by  me  yet.  The  "  situation  "  is  unique. 

The  next  morning,  at  what  seemed  a  very  early  hour, 
the  little  white  table-waiter  appeared  suddenly  in  my 
room  and  shot  a  single  word  out  of  himself :  ' '  Break 
fast!" 

This  was  a  remarkable  boy  in  many  ways.  He  was 
about  eleven  years  old  ;  he  had  alert,  intent  black  eyes  ; 
he  was  quick  of  movement;  there  was  no  hesitation, 
no  uncertainty  about  him  anywhere ;  there  was  a  mili 
tary  decision  in  his  lip,  his  manner,  his  speech,  that 
was  an  astonishing  thing  to  see  in  a  little  chap  like  him ; 
he  wasted  no  words ;  his  answers  always  came  so  quick 
and  brief  that  they  seemed  to  be  part  of  the  question 
that  had  been  asked  instead  of  a  reply  to  it.  When  he 
stood  at  table  with  his  fly-brush,  rigid,  erect,  his  face 
set  in  a  cast-iron  gravity,  he  was  a  statue  till  he  detected 
a  dawning  want  in  somebody's  eye;  then  he  pounced 
down,  supplied  it,  and  was  instantly  a  statue  again. 
When  he  was  sent  to  the  kitchen  for  anything,  he 
marched  upright  till  he  got  to  the  door;  he  turned 
hand-springs  the  rest  of  the  way. 

"Breakfast!" 

I  thought  I  would  make  one  more  effort  to  get  some 
conversation  out  of  this  being. 

"  Have  you  called  the  Reverend,  or  are — " 

"Yes  s'r!" 

"Is  it  early,  or  is — " 

"  Eight-five." 

"Do  you  have  to  do  all  the  'chores,'  or  is  there 
somebody  to  give  you  a — " 

"Colored  girl." 

16  Is  there  only  one  parish  in  this  island,  or  are 
there—" 

"Eight!" 


296  Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion 

"  Is  the  big  church  on  the  hill  a  parish  church,  or  is 
it—" 

"Chapel-of-ease!" 

"Is  taxation  here  classified  into  poll,  parish,  town, 
and—" 

"Don't  know!" 

Before  I  could  cudgel  another  question  out  of  my 
head,  he  was  below,  hand-springing  across  the  back 
yard.  He  had  slid  down  the  balusters,  head-first.  I 
gave  up  trying  to  provoke  a  discussion  with  him.  The 
essential  element  of  discussion  had  been  left  out  of 
him ;  his  answers  were  so  final  and  exact  that  they  did 
not  leave  a  doubt  to  hang  conversation  on.  I  suspect 
that  there  is  the  making  of  a  mighty  man  or  a  mighty 
rascal  in  this  boy  —  according  to  circumstances  —  but 
they  are  going  to  apprentice  him  to  a  carpenter.  It  is 
the  way  the  world  uses  its  opportunities. 

During  this  day  and  the  next  we  took  carriage  drives 
about  the  island  and  over  to  the  town  of  St.  George's, 
fifteen  or  twenty  miles  away.  Such  hard,  excellent 
roads  to  drive  over  are  not  to  be  found  elsewhere  out 
of  Europe.  An  intelligent  young  colored  man  drove 
us,  and  acted  as  guide-book.  In  the  edge  of  the  town 
we  saw  five  or  six  mountain-cabbage  palms  (atrocious 
name!)  standing  in  a  straight  row,  and  equidistant 
from  each  other.  These  were  not  the  largest  or  the 
tallest  trees  I  have  ever  seen,  but  they  were  the  state 
liest,  the  most  majestic.  That  row  of  them  must  be 
the  nearest  that  nature  has  ever  come  to  counterfeiting 
a  colonnade.  These  trees  are  all  the  same  height,  say 
sixty  feet ;  the  trunks  as  gray  as  granite,  with  a  very 
gradual  and  perfect  taper;  without  sign  of  branch  or 
knot  or  flaw ;  the  surface  not  looking  like  bark,  but  like 
granite  that  has  been  dressed  and  not  polished.  Thus  all 
the  way  up  the  diminishing  shaft  for  fifty  feet ;  then  it 
begins  to  take  the  appearance  of  being  closely  wrapped, 


Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion  297 

spool-fashion,  with  gray  cord,  or  of  having  been  turned 
in  a  lathe.  Above  this  point  there  is  an  outward  swell, 
and  thence  upwards,  for  six  feet  or  more,  the  cylinder 
is  a  bright,  fresh  green,  and  is  formed  of  wrappings 
like  those  of  an  ear  of  green  Indian  corn.  Then  comes 
the  great,  spraying  palm  plume,  also  green.  Other 
palm  trees  always  lean  out  of  the  perpendicular,  or 
have  a  curve  in  them.  But  the  plumb-line  could  not 
detect  a  deflection  in  any  individual  of  this  stately 
row ;  they  stand  as  straight  as  the  colonnade  of  Baal 
bee;  they  have  its  great  height,  they  have  its  grace 
fulness,  they  have  its  dignity;  in  moonlight  or  twilight, 
and  shorn  of  their  plumes,  they  would  duplicate  it. 

The  birds  we  came  across  in  the  country  were  singu 
larly  tame;  even  that  wild  creature,  the  quail,  would 
pick  around  in  the  grass  at  ease  while  we  inspected  it 
and  talked  about  it  at  leisure.  A  small  bird  of  the 
canary  species  had  to  be  stirred  up  with  the  butt-end 
of  the  whip  before  it  would  move,  and  then  it  moved 
only  a  couple  of  feet.  It  is  said  that  even  the  sus 
picious  flea  is  tame  and  sociable  in  Bermuda,  and  will 
allow  himself  to  be  caught  and  caressed  without  misgiv 
ings.  This  should  be  taken  with  allowance,  for  doubt 
less  there  is  more  or  less  brag  about  it.  In  San  Fran 
cisco  they  used  to  claim  that  their  native  flea  could  kick 
a  child  over,  as  if  it  were  a  merit  in  a  flea  to  be  able  to 
do  that;  as  if  the  knowledge  of  it  trumpeted  abroad 
ought  to  entice  immigration.  Such  a  thing  in  nine 
cases  out  of  ten  would  be  almost  sure  to  deter  a  think 
ing  man  from  coming. 

We  saw  no  bugs  or  reptiles  to  speak  of,  and  so  I  was 
thinking  of  saying  in  print,  in  a  general  way,  that  there 
were  none  at  all;  but  one  night  after  I  had  gone  to  bed, 
the  Reverend  came  into  my  room  carrying  something, 
and  asked,  "  Is  this  your  boot?"  I  said  it  was,  and 
he  said  he  had  met  a  spider  going  off  with  it.  Next 


298  Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion 

morning  he  stated  that  just  at  dawn  the  same  spider 
raised  his  window  and  was  coming  in  to  get  a  shirt,  but 
saw  him  and  fled. 

I  inquired,  "  Did  he  get  the  shirt?" 

"No." 

"  How  did  you  know  it  was  a  shirt  he  was  after?" 

"  I  could  see  it  in  his  eye." 

We  inquired  around,  but  could  hear  of  no  Bermu- 
dian  spider  capable  of  doing  these  things.  Citizens 
said  that  their  largest  spiders  could  not  more  than 
spread  their  legs  over  an  ordinary  saucer,  and  that  they 
had  always  been  considered  honest.  Here  was  testi 
mony  of  a  clergyman  against  the  testimony  of  mere 
worldings  —  interested  ones,  too.  On  the  whole,  I 
judged  it  best  to  lock  up  my  things. 

Here  and  there  on  the  country  roads  we  found  lemon, 
papaw,  orange,  lime,  and  fig  trees;  also  several  sorts 
of  palms,  among  them  the  cocoa,  the  date,  and  the 
palmetto.  We  saw  some  bamboos  forty  feet  high,  with 
stems  as  thick  as  a  man's  arm.  Jungles  of  the  man 
grove-tree  stood  up  out  of  swamps,  propped  on  their 
interlacing  roots  as  upon  a  tangle  of  stilts.  In  drier 
places  the  noble  tamarind  sent  down  its  grateful  cloud 
of  shade.  Here  and  there  the  blossomy  tamarisk 
adorned  the  roadside.  There  was  a  curious  gnarled 
and  twisted  black  tree,  without  a  single  leaf  on  it.  It 
might  have  passed  itself  off  for  a  dead  apple  tree  but 
for  the  fact  that  it  had  a  star-like,  red-hot  flower 
sprinkled  sparsely  over  its  person.  It  had  the  scattery 
red  glow  that  a  constellation  might  have  when  glimpsed 
through  smoked  glass.  It  is  possible  that  our  constel 
lations  have  been  so  constructed  as  to  be  invisible 
through  smoked  glass;  if  this  is  so  it  is  a  great  mistake. 

We  saw  a  tree  that  bears  grapes,  and  just  as  calmly 
and  unostentatiously  as  a  vine  would  do  it.  We  saw 
an  India-rubber-tree,  but  out  of  season,  possibly,  so 


Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion  299 

there  were  no  shoes  on  it,  nor  suspenders,  nor  any 
thing  that  a  person  would  properly  expect  to  find  there. 
This  gave  it  an  impressively  fraudulent  look.  There 
was  exactly  one  mahogany  tree  on  the  jsland.  I  know 
this  to  be  reliable,  because  I  saw  a  man  who  said  he 
had  counted  it  many  a  time  and  could  not  be  mistaken. 
He  was  a  man  with  a  harelip  and  a  pure  heart,  and 
everybody  said  he  was  as  true  as  steel.  Such  men  are 
all  too  few. 

One's  eye  caught  near  and  far  the  pink  cloud  of  the 
oleander  and  the  red  blaze  of  the  pomegranate  blossom. 
In  one  piece  of  wild  wood  the  morning-glory  vines 
had  wrapped  the  trees  to  their  very  tops,  and  decorated 
them  all  over  with  couples  and  clusters  of  great  blue 
bells  —  a  fine  and  striking  spectacle,  at  a  little  distance. 
But  the  dull  cedar  is  everywhere,  and  is  the  prevail 
ing  foliage.  One  does  not  appreciate  how  dull  it  is 
until  the  varnished,  bright  green  attire  of  the  infrequent 
lemon  tree  pleasantly  intrudes  its  contrast.  In  one 
thing  Bermuda  is  eminently  tropical  —  was  in  May,  at 
least  —  the  unbrilliant,  slightly  faded,  unrejoicing  look 
of  the  landscape.  For  forests  arrayed  in  a  blemishless 
magnificence  of  glowing  green  foliage  that  seems  to 
exult  in  its  own  existence  and  can  move  the  beholder 
to  an  enthusiasm  that  will  make  him  either  shout  or 
cry,  one  must  go  to  countries  that  have  malignant 
winters. 

We  saw  scores  of  colored  farmers  digging  their  crops 
of  potatoes  and  onions,  their  wives  and  children  help 
ing —  entirely  contented  and  comfortable,  if  looks  go 
for  anything.  We  never  met  a  man,  or  woman,  or 
child  anywhere  in  this  sunny  island  who  seemed  to  be 
unprosperous,  or  discontented,  or  sorry  about  anything. 
This  sort  of  monotony  became  very  tiresome  presently, 
and  even  something  worse.  The  spectacle  of  an  entire 
nation  groveling  in  contentment  is  an  infuriating  thing. 


300  Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion 

We  felt  the  lack  of  something  in  this  community  —  a 
vague,  an  undefinable,  an  elusive  something,  and  yet 
a  lack.  But  after  considerable  thought  we  made  out 
what  it  was  —  tramps.  Let  them  go  there,  right  now, 
in  a  body.  It  is  utterly  virgin  soil.  Passage  is  cheap. 
Every  true  patriot  in  America  will  help  buy  tickets. 
Whole  armies  of  these  excellent  beings  can  be  spared 
from  our  midst  and  our  polls ;  they  will  find  a  delicious 
climate  and  a  green,  kind-hearted  people.  There  are 
potatoes  and  onions  for  all,  and  a  generous  welcome 
for  the  first  batch  that  arrives,  and  elegant  graves  for 
the  second. 

It  was  the  Early  Rose  potato  the  people  were  dig 
ging.  Later  in  the  year  they  have  another  crop,  which 
they  call  the  Garnet.  We  buy  their  potatoes  (retail) 
at  fifteen  dollars  a  barrel ;  and  those  colored  farmers 
buy  ours  for  a  song,  and  live  on  them.  Havana  might 
exchange  cigars  with  Connecticut  in  the  same  ad 
vantageous  way,  if  she  thought  of  it. 

We  passed  a  roadside  grocery  with  a  sign  up,  "  Pota 
toes  Wanted."  An  ignorant  stranger,  doubtless.  He 
could  not  have  gone  thirty  steps  from  his  place  without 
finding  plenty  of  them. 

In  several  fields  the  arrowroot  crop  was  already 
sprouting.  Bermuda  used  to  make  a  vast  annual 
profit  out  of  this  staple  before  firearms  came  into  such 
general  use. 

The  island  is  not  large.  Somewhere  in  the  interior  a 
man  ahead  of  us  had  a  very  slow  horse.  I  suggested 
that  we  had  better  go  by  him ;  but  the  driver  said  the 
man  had  but  a  little  way  to  go.  I  waited  to  see, 
wondering  how  he  could  know.  Presently  the  man  did 
turn  down  another  road.  I  asked,  "How  did  you 
know  he  would?" 

"  Because  I  knew  the  man,  and  where  he  lived." 

I  asked  him,  satirically,  if  he  knew  everybody  in  the 


Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion  301 

island;  he  answered,  very  simply,  that  he  did.  This 
gives  a  body's  mind  a  good  substantial  grip  on  the 
dimensions  of  the  place. 

At  the  principal  hotel  at  St.  George's,  a  young  girl, 
with  a  sweet,  serious  face,  said  we  could  not  be  fur 
nished  with  dinner,  because  we  had  not  been  expected, 
and  no  preparation  had  been  made.  Yet  it  was  still  an 
hour  before  dinner  time.  We  argued,  she  yielded  not; 
we  supplicated,  she  was  serene.  The  hotel  had  not 
been  expecting  an  inundation  of  two  people,  and  so  it 
seemed  that  we  should  have  to  go  home  dinnerless.  I 
said  we  were  not  very  hungry;  a  fish  would  do.  My 
little  maid  answered,  it  was  not  the  market  day  for  fish. 
Things  began  to  look  serious ;  but  presently  the  boarder 
who  sustained  the  hotel  came  in,  and  when  the  case 
was  laid  before  him  he  was  cheerfully  willing  to  divide. 
So  we  had  much  pleasant  chat  at  table  about  St, 
George's  chief  industry,  the  repairing  of  damaged 
ships ;  and  in  between  we  had  a  soup  that  had  some 
thing  in  it  that  seemed  to  taste  like  the  hereafter,  but  it 
proved  to  be  only  pepper  of  a  particularly  vivacious 
kind.  And  we  had  an  iron-clad  chicken  that  was  de- 
liciously  cooked,  but  not  in  the  right  way.  Baking  was 
not  the  thing  to  convince  his  sort.  He  ought  to  have 
been  put  through  a  quartz  mill  until  the  "tuck"  was 
taken  out  of  him,  and  then  boiled  till  we  came  again. 
We  got  a  good  deal  of  sport  out  of  him,  but  not  enough 
sustenance  to  leave  the  victory  on  our  side.  No  mat 
ter;  we  had  potatoes  and  a  pie  and  a  sociable  good 
time.  Then  a  ramble  through  the  town,  which  is  a 
quaint  one,  with  interesting,  crooked  streets,  and  nar 
row,  crooked  lanes,  with  here  and  there  a  grain  of  dust. 
Here,  as  in  Hamilton,  the  dwellings  had  Venetian 
blinds  of  a  very  sensible  pattern.  They  were  not 
double  shutters,  hinged  at  the  sides,  but  a  single  broad 
shutter,  hinged  at  the  top;  you  push  it  outward,  from 


302  Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion 

the  bottom,  and  fasten  it  at  any  angle  required  by  the 
sun  or  desired  by  yourself. 

All  about  the  island  one  sees  great  white  scars  on  the 
hill-slopes.  These  are  dished  spaces  where  the  soil  has 
been  scraped  off  and  the  coral  exposed  and  glazed  with 
hard  whitewash.  Some  of  these  are  a  quarter-acre  in 
size.  They  catch  and  carry  the  rainfall  to  reservoirs ; 
for  the  wells  are  few  and  poor,  and  there  are  no  natural 
springs  and  no  brooks. 

They  say  that  the  Bermuda  climate  is  mild  and 
equable,  with  never  any  snow  or  ice,  and  that  one 
may  be  very  comfortable  in  spring  clothing  the  year 
round,  there.  We  had  delightful  and  decided  summer 
weather  in  May,  with  a  flaming  sun  that  permitted  the 
thinnest  of  raiment,  and  yet  there  was  a  constant 
breeze ;  consequently  we  were  never  discomforted  by 
heat.  At  four  or  five  in  the  afternoon  the  mercury 
began  to  go  down,  and  then  it  became  necessary  to 
change  to  thick  garments.  I  went  to  St.  George's  in  the 
morning  clothed  in  the  thinnest  of  linen,  and  reached 
home  at  five  in  the  afternoon  with  two  overcoats  on. 
The  nights  are  said  to  be  always  cool  and  bracing. 
We  had  mosquito  nets,  and  the  Reverend  said  the 
mosquitoes  persecuted  him  a  good  deal.  I  often  heard 
him  slapping  and  banging  at  these  imaginary  creatures 
with  as  much  zeal  as  if  they  had  been  real.  There  are 
no  mosquitoes  in  the  Bermudas  in  May. 

The  poet  Thomas  Moore  spent  several  months  in 
Bermuda  more  than  seventy  years  ago.  He  was  sent 
out  to  be  registrar  of  the  admiralty.  I  am  not  quite 
clear  as  to  the  function  of  a  registrar  of  the  admiralty 
of  Bermuda,  but  I  think  it  is  his  duty  to  keep  a  record 
of  all  the  admirals  born  there.  I  will  inquire  into  this. 
There  was  not  much  doing  in  admirals,  and  Moore  got 
tired  and  went  away.  A  reverently  preserved  souvenir 
of  him  is  still  one  of  the  treasures  of  the  islands.  I 


Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion  303 

gathered  the  idea,  vaguely,  that  it  was  a  jug,  but  was 
persistently  thwarted  in  the  twenty-two  efforts  I  made 
to  visit  it.  However,  it  was  no  matter,  for  I  found  out 
afterwards  that  it  was  only  a  chair. 

There  are  several  "sights"  in  the  Bermudas,  of 
course,  but  they  are  easily  avoided.  This  is  a  great 
advantage  —  one  cannot  have  it  in  Europe.  Bermuda 
is  the  right  country  for  a  jaded  man  to  "loaf"  in. 
There  are  no  harassments ;  the  deep  peace  and  quiet  of 
the  country  sink  into  one's  body  and  bones  and  give 
his  conscience  a  rest,  and  chloroform  the  legion  of  in 
visible  small  devils  that  are  always  trying  to  whitewash 
his  hair.  A  good  many  Americans  go  there  about  the 
first  of  March  and  remain  until  the  early  spring  weeks 
have  finished  their  villainies  at  home. 

The  Bermudians  are  hoping  soon  to  have  telegraphic 
communication  with  the  world.  But  even  after  they 
shall  have  acquired  this  curse  it  will  still  be  a  good 
country  to  go  to  for  a  vacation,  for  there  are  charming 
little  islets  scattered  about  the  enclosed  sea  where  one 
could  live  secure  from  interruption.  The  telegraph 
boy  would  have  to  come  in  a  boat,  and  one  could  easily 
kill  him  while  he  was  making  his  landing. 

We  had  spent  four  days  in  Bermuda  —  three  bright 
ones  out  of  doors  and  one  rainy  one  in  the  house,  we 
being  disappointed  about  getting  a  yacht  for  a  sail ; 
and  now  our  furlough  was  ended,  and  we  entered  into 
the  ship  again  and  sailed  homeward. 

We  made  the  run  home  to  New  York  quarantine  in 
three  days  and  five  hours,  and  could  have  gone  right 
along  up  to  the  city  if  we  had  had  a  health  permit. 
But  health  permits  are  not  granted  after  seven  in  the 
evening,  partly  because  a  ship  cannot  be  inspected 
and  overhauled  with  exhaustive  thoroughness  except  in 
daylight,  and  partly  because  health  officers  are  liable 
to  catch  cold  if  they  expose  themselves  to  the  night 


3O4  Rambling  Notes  of  an  Idle  Excursion 

air.  Still,  you  can  buy  a  permit  after  hours  for  five 
dollars  extra,  and  the  officer  will  do  the  inspecting 
next  week.  Our  ship  and  passengers  lay  under  ex 
pense  and  in  humiliating  captivity  all  night,  under  the 
very  nose  of  the  little  official  reptile  who  is  supposed 
to  protect  New  York  from  pestilence  by  his  vigilant 
"inspections."  This  imposing  rigor  gave  everybody 
a  solemn  and  awful  idea  of  the  beneficent  watchfulness 
of  our  government,  and  there  were  some  who  wondered 
if  anything  finer  could  be  found  in  other  countries. 

In  the  morning  we  were  all  a-tiptoe  to  witness  the 
intricate  ceremony  of  inspecting  the  ship.  But  it  was 
a  disappointing  thing.  The  health  officer's  tug  ranged 
alongside  for  a  moment,  our  purser  handed  the  lawful 
three-dollar  permit  fee  to  the  health  officer's  bootblack, 
who  passed  us  a  folded  paper  in  a  forked  stick,  and 
away  we  went.  The  entire  "  inspection  "  did  not  oc 
cupy  thirteen  seconds. 

The  health  officer's  place  is  worth  a  hundred  thou 
sand  dollars  a  year  to  him.  His  system  of  inspection 
is  perfect,  and  therefore  cannot  be  improved  on ;  but 
it  seems  to  me  that  his  system  of  collecting  his  fees 
might  be  amended.  For  a  great  ship  to  lie  idle  all 
night  is  a  most  costly  loss  of  time ;  for  her  passengers 
to  have  to  do  the  same  thing  works  to  them  the  same 
damage,  with  the  addition  of  an  amount  of  exaspera 
tion  and  bitterness  of  soul  that  the  spectacle  of  that 
health  officer's  ashes  on  a  shovel  could  hardly  sweeten. 
Now  why  would  it  not  be  better  and  simpler  to  let  the 
ships  pass  in  unmolested,  and  the  fees  and  permits  be 
exchanged  once  a  year  by  post? 


THE  FACTS  CONCERNING  THE  RECENT 

CARNIVAL  OF  CRIME  IN 

CONNECTICUT 


I  WAS  feeling  blithe,  almost  jocund.  I  put  a  match 
to  my  cigar,  and  just  then  the  morning's  mail  was 
handed  in.  The  first  superscription  I  glanced  at  was 
in  a  handwriting  that  sent  a  thrill  of  pleasure  through 
and  through  me.  It  was  Aunt  Mary's;  and  she  was 
the  person  I  loved  and  honored  most  in  all  the  world, 
outside  of  my  own  household.  She  had  been  my  boy 
hood's  idol;  maturity,  which  is  fatal  to  so  many  en 
chantments,  had  not  been  able  to  dislodge  her  from 
her  pedestal;  no,  it  had  only  justified  her  right  to  be 
there,  and  placed  her  dethronement  permanently  among 
the  impossibilities.  To  show  how  strong  her  influence 
over  me  was,  I  will  observe  that  long  after  everybody 
else's  "^-stop-smoking"  had  ceased  to  affect  me  in 
the  slightest  degree,  Aunt  Mary  could  still  stir  my 
torpid  conscience  into  faint  signs  of  life  when  she 
touched  upon  the  matter.  But  all  things  have  their 
limit  in  this  world.  A  happy  day  came  at  last,  when 
even  Aunt  Mary's  words  could  no  longer  move  me.  I 
was  not  merely  glad  to  see  that  day  arrive ;  I  was  more 
than  glad  —  I  was  grateful ;  for  when  its  sun  had  set, 
the  one  alloy  that  was  able  to  mar  my  enjoyment  of 
my  aunt's  society  was  gone.  The  remainder  of  her 
20**  (305) 


306    Concerning  the  Carnival  of  Crime  in  Connecticut 

stay  with  us  that  winter  was  in  every  way  a  delight. 
Of  course  she  pleaded  with  me  just  as  earnestly  as 
ever,  after  that  blessed  day,  to  quit  my  pernicious 
habit,  but  to  no  purpose  whatever;  the  moment  she 
opened  the  subject  I  at  once  became  calmly,  peace 
fully,  contentedly  indifferent —  absolutely,  adamantinely 
indifferent.  Consequently  the  closing  weeks  of  that 
memorable  visit  melted  away  as  pleasantly  as  a  dream, 
they  were  so  freighted  for  me  with  tranquil  satisfaction. 
I  could  not  have  enjoyed  my  pet  vice  more  if  my  gentle 
tormentor  had  been  a  smoker  herself,  and  an  advocate 
of  the  practice.  Well,  the  sight  of  her  handwriting 
reminded  me  that  I  was  getting  very  hungry  to  see  her 
again.  I  easily  guessed  what  I  should  find  in  her 
letter.  I  opened  it.  Good!  just  as  I  expected;  she 
was  coming!  Coming  this  very  day,  too,  and  by  the 
morning  train ;  I  might  expect  her  any  moment. 

I  said  to  myself,  "  I  am  thoroughly  happy  and  con 
tent  now.  If  my  most  pitiless  enemy  could  appear 
before  me  at  this  moment,  I  would  freely  right  any 
wrong  I  may  have  done  him." 

Straightway  the  door  opened,  and  a  shriveled, 
shabby  dwarf  entered.  He  was  not  more  than  two 
feet  high.  He  seemed  to  be  about  forty  years  old. 
Every  feature  and  every  inch  of  him  was  a  trifle  out  of 
shape;  and  so,  while  one  could  not  put  his  finger 
upon  any  particular  part  and  say,  "  This  is  a  conspicu 
ous  deformity,"  the  spectator  perceived  that  this  little 
person  was  a  deformity  as  a  whole  —  a  vague,  general, 
evenly  blended,  nicely  adjusted  deformity.  There  was 
a  fox-like  cunning  in  the  face  and  the  sharp  little  eyes, 
and  also  alertness  and  malice.  And  yet,  this  vile  bit  of 
human  rubbish  seemed  to  bear  a  sort  of  remote  and  ill- 
defined  resemblance  to  me  !  It  was  dully  perceptible 
in  the  mean  form,  the  countenance,  and  even  the 
clothes,  gestures,  manner,  and  attitudes  of  the  creature. 


Concerning  the  Carnival  of  Crime  in  Connecticut    307 

He  was  a  far-fetched,  dim  suggestion  of  a  burlesque 
upon  me,  a  caricature  of  me  in  little.  One  thing  about 
him  struck  me  forcibly,  and  most  unpleasantly :  he  was 
covered  all  over  with  a  fuzzy,  greenish  mould,  such  as 
one  sometimes  sees  upon  mildewed  bread.  The  sight 
of  it  was  nauseating. 

He  stepped  along  with  a  chipper  air,  and  flung  him 
self  into  a  doll's  chair  in  a  very  free-and-easy  way, 
without  waiting  to  be  asked.  He  tossed  his  hat  into 
the  waste-basket.  He  picked  up  my  old  chalk  pipe 
from  the  floor,  gave  the  stem  a  wipe  or  two  on  his 
knee,  filled  the  bowl  from  the  tobacco-box  at  his  side, 
and  said  to  me  in  a  tone  of  pert  command : 

"  Gimme  a  match  !" 

I  blushed  to  the  roots  of  my  hair;  partly  with  indig 
nation,  but  mainly  because  it  somehow  seemed  to  me 
that  this  whole  performance  was  very  like  an  exaggera 
tion  of  conduct  which  I  myself  had  sometimes  been 
guilty  of  in  my  intercourse  with  familiar  friends — but 
never,  never  with  strangers,  I  observed  to  myself.  I 
wanted  to  kick  the  pigmy  into  the  fire,  but  some  in 
comprehensible  sense  of  being  legally  and  legitimately 
under  his  authority  forced  me  to  obey  his  order.  He 
applied  the  match  to  the  pipe,  took  a  contemplative 
whiff  or  two,  and  remarked,  in  an  irritatingly  familiar 
way: 

"  Seems  to  me  it's  devilish  odd  weather  for  this  time 
of  year." 

I  flushed  again,  and  in  anger  and  humiliation  as  be 
fore  ;  for  the  language  was  hardly  an  exaggeration  of 
some  that  I  have  uttered  in  my  day,  and  moreover  was 
delivered  in  a  tone  of  voice  and  with  an  exasperating 
drawl  that  had  the  seeming  of  a  deliberate  travesty  of 
my  style.  Now  there  is  nothing  I  am  quite  so  sensitive 
about  as  a  mocking  imitation  of  my  drawling  infirmity 
of  speech.  I  spoke  up  sharply  and  said : 


303    Concerning  the  Carnival  of  Crime  in  Connecticut 

"Look  here,  you  miserable  ash-cat!  you  will  have 
to  give  a  little  more  attention  to  your  manners,  or  I  will 
throw  you  out  of  the  window !" 

The  manikin  smiled  a  smile  of  malicious  content  and 
security,  puffed  a  whiff  of  smoke  contemptuously 
toward  me,  and  said,  with  a  still  more  elaborate  drawl: 

"Come  —  go  gently  now;  don't  put  on  too  many 
airs  with  your  betters." 

This  cool  snub  rasped  me  all  over,  but  it  seemed  to 
subjugate  me,  too,  for  a  moment.  The  pigmy  con 
templated  me  awhile  with  his  weasel  eyes,  and  then 
said,  in  a  peculiarly  sneering  way: 

"You  turned  a  tramp  away  from  your  door  this 
morning." 

I  said  crustily: 

'  Perhaps  I  did,  perhaps  I  didn't.  How  do  you 
know?" 

"Well,  I  know.      It  isn't  any  matter  how  I  know." 

"  Very  well.  Suppose  I  did  turn  a  tramp  away  from 
the  door — what  of  it?" 

"  Oh,  nothing;  nothing  in  particular.  Only  you  lied 
to  him." 

'I  didn't!     That  is,  I—" 

"Yes,  but  you  did;   you  lied  to  him." 

I  felt  a  guilty  pang — in  truth,  I  had  felt  it  forty 
times  before  that  tramp  had  traveled  a  block  from  my 
door  —  but  still  I  resolved  to  make  a  show  of  feeling 
slandered  ;  so  I  said  : 

'  This  is  a  baseless  impertinence.  I  said  to  the 
tramp  — " 

'There — wait.  You  were  about  to  lie  again.  / 
know  what  you  said  to  him.  You  said  the  cook  was 
gone  down  town  and  there  was  nothing  left  from  break 
fast.  Two  lies.  You  knew  the  cook  was  behind  the 
door,  and  plenty  of  provisions  behind  her" 

This  astonishing  accuracy  silenced  me ;   and   it  filled 


Concerning  the  Carnival  of  Crime  in  Connecticut    309 

me  with  wondering  speculations,  too,  as  to  how  this 
cub  could  have  got  his  information.  Of  course  he 
could  have  culled  the  conversation  from  the  tramp,  but 
by  what  sort  of  magic  had  he  contrived  to  find  out 
about  the  concealed  cook?  Now  the  dwarf  spoke 
again  : 

"  It  was  rather  pitiful,  rather  small,  in  you  to  refuse 
to  read  that  poor  young  woman's  manuscript  the  other 
day,  and  give  her  an  opinion  as  to  its  literary  value ; 
and  she  had  come  so  far,  too,  and  so  hopefully.  Now 
wasn't  it?" 

I  felt  like  a  cur !  And  I  had  felt  so  every  time  the 
thing  had  recurred  to  my  mind,  I  may  as  well  confess. 
I  flushed  hotly  and  said : 

"Look  here,  have  you  nothing  better  to  do  than 
prowl  around  prying  into  other  people's  business? 
Did  that  girl  tell  you  that?" 

"Never  mind  whether  she  did  or  not.  The  main 
thing  is,  you  did  that  contemptible  thing.  And  you 
felt  ashamed  of  it  afterward.  Aha  !  you  feel  ashamed 
of  it  now  /" 

This  was  a  sort  of  devilish  glee.  With  fiery  earnest 
ness  I  responded : 

"  I  told  that  girl,  in  the  kindest,  gentlest  way,  that  I 
could  not  consent  to  deliver  judgment  upon  any  one's 
manuscript,  because  an  individual's  verdict  was  worth 
less.  It  might  underrate  a  work  of  high  merit  and  lose 
it  to  the  world,  or  it  might  overrate  a  trashy  production 
and  so  open  the  way  for  its  infliction  upon  the  world. 
I  said  that  the  great  public  was  the  only  tribunal  com 
petent  to  sit  in  judgment  upon  a  literary  effort,  and 
therefore  it  must  be  best  to  lay  it  before  that  tribunal 
in  the  outset,  since  in  the  end  it  must  stand  or  fall  by 
that  mighty  court's  decision  anyway." 

'*  Yes,  you  said  all  that.  So  you  did,  you  juggling, 
small-souled  shuffler !  And  yet  when  the  happy  hope- 


310    Concerning  the  Carnival  of  Crime  in  Connecticut 

fulness  faded  out  of  that  poor  girl's  face,  when  you 
saw  her  furtively  slip  beneath  her  shawl  the  scroll  she 
had  so  patiently  and  honestly  scribbled  at  —  so  ashamed 
of  her  darling  now,  so  proud  of  it  before  —  when  you 
saw  the  gladness  go  out  of  her  eyes  and  the  tears  corne 
there,  when  she  crept  away  so  humbly  who  had  come 
so—" 

"  Oh,  peace  !  peace  !  peace  !  Blister  your  merciless 
tongue,  haven't  all  these  thoughts  tortured  me  enough 
without  your  coming  here  to  fetch  them  back  again!" 

Remorse  !  remorse  !  It  seemed  to  me  that  it  would 
eat  the  very  heart  out  of  me !  And  yet  that  small 
fiend  only  sat  there  leering  at  me  with  joy  and  con 
tempt,  and  placidly  chuckling.  Presently  he  began  to 
speak  again.  Every  sentence  was  an  accusation,  and 
every  accusation  a  truth.  Every  clause  was  freighted 
with  sarcasm  and  derision,  every  slow-dropping  word 
burned  like  vitriol.  The  dwarf  reminded  me  of  times 
when  I  had  flown  at  my  children  in  anger  and  punished 
them  for  faults  which  a  little  inquiry  would  have  taught 
me  that  others,  and  not  they,  had  committed.  He  re 
minded  me  of  how  I  had  disloyally  allowed  old  friends 
to  be  traduced  in  my  hearing,  and  been  too  craven  to 
utter  a  word  in  their  defense.  He  reminded  me  of 
many  dishonest  things  which  I  had  done ;  of  many 
which  I  had  procured  to  be  done  by  children  and  other 
irresponsible  persons ;  of  some  which  I  had  planned, 
thought  upon,  and  longed  to  do,  and  been  kept  from 
the  performance  by  fear  of  consequences  only.  With 
exquisite  cruelty  he  recalled  to  my  mind,  item  by  item, 
wrongs  and  unkindnesses  I  had  inflicted  and  humilia 
tions  I  had  put  upon  friends  since  dead,  "  who  died 
thinking  of  those  injuries,  maybe,  and  grieving  over 
them,"  he  added,  by  way  of  poison  to  the  stab. 

"For  instance,"  said  he,  "take  the  case  of  your 
younger  brother,  when  you  two  were  boys  together, 


Concerning  the  Carnival  of  Crime  in  Connecticut    311 

many  a  long  year  ago.  He  always  lovingly  trusted  in 
you  with  a  fidelity  that  your  manifold  treacheries  were 
not  able  to  shake.  He  followed  you  about  like  a  dog, 
content  to  suffer  wrong  and  abuse  if  he  might  only  be 
with  you ;  patient  under  these  injuries  so  long  as  it  was 
your  hand  that  inflicted  them.  The  latest  picture  you 
have  of  him  in  health  and  strength  must  be  such  a 
comfort  to  you  !  You  pledged  your  honor  that  if  he 
would  let  you  blindfold  him  no  harm  should  come  to 
him;  and  then,  giggling  and  choking  over  the  rare  fun 
of  the  joke,  you  led  him  to  a  brook  thinly  glazed  with 
ice,  and  pushed  him  in ;  and  how  you  did  laugh ! 
Man,  you  will  never  forget  the  gentle,  reproachful 
look  he  gave  you  as  he  struggled  shivering  out,  if  you 
live  a  thousand  years  !  Oho  !  you  see  it  now,  you  see 
it  now  /" 

"  Beast,  I  have  seen  it  a  million  times,  and  shall  see 
it  a  million  more !  and  may  you  rot  away  piecemeal, 
and  suffer  till  doomsday  what  I  suffer  now,  for  bring 
ing  it  back  to  me  again  !" 

The  dwarf  chuckled  contentedly,  and  went  on  with 
his  accusing  history  of  my  career.  I  dropped  into  a 
moody,  vengeful  state,  and  suffered  in  silence  under 
the  merciless  lash.  At  last  this  remark  of  his  gave  me 
a  sudden  rouse : 

4  Two  months  ago,  on  a  Tuesday,  you  woke  up, 
away  in  the  night,  and  fell  to  thinking,  with  shame, 
about  a  peculiarly  mean  and  pitiful  act  of  yours  toward 
a  poor  ignorant  Indian  in  the  wilds  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains  in  the  winter  of  eighteen  hundred  and — " 

"  Stop  a  moment,  devil!  Stop!  Do  you  mean  to 
tell  me  that  even  my  very  thoughts  are  not  hidden  from 
you?" 

"  It  seems  to  look  like  that.  Didn't  you  think  the 
thoughts  I  have  just  mentioned?" 

"  If  I   didn't,  I   wish   I   may  never  breathe   again! 


312    Concerning  the  Carnival  of  Crime  in  Connecticut 

Look  here,  friend  —  look  me  in  the  eye.  Who  are 
you?" 

"  Well,  who  do  you  think?" 

"I  think  you  are  Satan  himself.  I  think  you  are 
the  devil." 

"No." 

11  No?     Then  who  can  you  be?" 

"  Would  you  really  like  to  know?" 

"  Indeed  I  would." 

"  Well,  I  am  your  Conscience  /" 

In  an  instant  I  was  in  a  blaze  of  joy  and  exultation. 
I  sprang  at  the  creature,  roaring: 

"  Curse  you,  I  have  wished  a  hundred  million  times 
that  you  were  tangible,  and  that  I  could  get  my  hands 
on  your  throat  once !  Oh,  but  I  will  wreak  a  deadly 
vengeance  on — " 

Folly  !  Lightning  does  not  move  more  quickly  than 
my  Conscience  did  !  He  darted  aloft  so  suddenly  that 
in  the  moment  my  fingers  clutched  the  empty  air  he 
was  already  perched  on  the  top  of  the  high  bookcase, 
with  his  thumb  at  his  nose  in  token  of  derision.  I 
flung  the  poker  at  him,  and  missed.  I  fired  the  boot 
jack.  In  a  blind  rage  I  flew  from  place  to  place,  and 
snatched  and  hurled  any  missile  that  came  handy ;  the 
storm  of  books,  inkstands,  and  chunks  of  coal  gloomed 
the  air  and  beat  about  the  manikin's  perch  relentlessly, 
but  all  to  no  purpose ;  the  nimble  figure  dodged  every 
shot;  and  not  only  that,  but  burst  into  a  cackle  of 
sarcastic  and  triumphant  laughter  as  I  sat  down  ex 
hausted.  While  I  puffed  and  gasped  with  fatigue  and 
excitement,  my  Conscience  talked  to  this  effect : 

"My  good  slave,  you  are  curiously  witless  —  no,  I 
mean  characteristically  so.  In  truth,  you  are  always 
consistent,  always  yourself,  always  an  ass.  Otherwise 
it  must  have  occurred  to  you  that  if  you  attempted  this 
murder  with  a  sad  heart  and  a  heavy  conscience,  I 


Concerning  the  Carnival  of  Crime  in  Connecticut    313 

would  droop  under  the  burdening  influence  instantly. 
Fool,  I  should  have  weighed  a  ton,  and  could  not  have 
budged  from  the  floor;  but  instead,  you  are  so  cheer 
fully  anxious  to  kill  me  that  your  conscience  is  as  light 
as  a  feather ;  hence  I  am  away  up  here  out  of  your 
reach.  I  can  almost  respect  a  mere  ordinary  sort  of 
fool ;  but  you  —  pah  ! ' ' 

I  would  have  given  anything,  then,  to  be  heavy- 
hearted,  so  that  I  could  get  this  person  down  from 
there  and  take  his  life,  but  I  could  no  more  be  heavy- 
hearted  over  such  a  desire  than  I  could  have  sorrowed 
over  its  accomplishment.  So  I  could  only  look  long 
ingly  up  at  my  master,  and  rave  at  the  ill-luck  that 
denied  me  a  heavy  conscience  the  one  only  time  that  I 
had  ever  wanted  such  a  thing  in  my  life.  By  and  by  I 
got  to  musing  over  the  hour's  strange  adventure,  and 
of  course  my  human  curiosity  began  to  work.  I  set 
myself  to  framing  in  my  mind  some  questions  for  this 
fiend  to  answer.  Just  then  one  of  my  boys  entered, 
leaving  the  door  open  behind  him,  and  exclaimed: 

"  My  !  what  has  been  going  on  here?  The  bookcase 
is  all  one  riddle  of — " 

I  sprang  up  in  consternation,  and  shouted: 

"Out  of  this!  Hurry!  Jump!  Fly!  Shut  the 
door!  Quick,  or  my  Conscience  will  get  away!" 

The  door  slammed  to,  and  I  locked  it.  I  glanced 
up  and  was  grateful,  to  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  to  see 
that  my  owner  was  still  my  prisoner.  I  said : 

II  Hang  you,  I  might  have  lost  you  !     Children  are 
the  heedlessest  creatures.      But  look  here,  friend,  the 
boy  did  not  seem  to  notice  you  at  all;   how  is  that?" 

"  For  a  very  good  reason.  I  am  invisible  to  all  but 
you." 

I  made  a  mental  note  of  that  piece  of  information 
with  a  good  deal  of  satisfaction.  I  could  kill  this  mis 
creant  now,  if  I  got  a  chance,  and  no  one  would  know 


314    Concerning  the  Carnival  of  Crime  in  Connecticut 

it.  But  this  very  reflection  made  me  so  light-hearted 
that  my  Conscience  could  hardly  keep  his  seat,  but  was 
like  to  float  aloft  toward  the  ceiling  like  a  toy  balloon. 
I  said,  presently: 

"  Come,  my  Conscience,  let  us  be  friendly.  Let  us 
fly  a  flag  of  truce  for  a  while.  I  am  suffering  to  ask 
you  some  questions." 

"Very  well.     Begin." 

"  Well,  then,  in  the  first  place,  why  were  you  never 
visible  to  me  before?  " 

' '  Because  you  never  asked  to  see  me  before ;  that 
is,  you  never  asked  in  the  right  spirit  and  the  proper 
form  before.  You  were  just  in  the  right  spirit  this 
time,  and  when  you  called  for  your  most  pitiless  enemy 
I  was  that  person  by  a  very  large  majority,  though  you 
did  not  suspect  it." 

14  Well,  did  that  remark  of  mine  turn  you  into  flesh 
and  blood?" 

"  No.  It  only  made  me  visible  to  you.  I  am  un 
substantial,  just  as  other  spirits  are." 

This  remark  prodded  me  with  a  sharp  misgiving.  If 
he  was  unsubstantial,  how  was  I  going  to  kill  him? 
But  I  dissembled,  and  said  persuasively: 

"  Conscience,  it  isn't  sociable  of  you  to  keep  at  such 
a  distance.  Come  down  and  take  another  smoke." 

This  was  answered  with  a  look  that  was  full  of 
derision,  and  with  this  observation  added: 

"  Come  where  you  can  get  at  me  and  kill  me?  The 
invitation  is  declined  with  thanks." 

56  All  right,"  said  I  to  myself;  "so  it  seems  a  spirit 
can  be  killed,  after  all;  there  will  be  one  spirit  lacking 
in  this  world,  presently,  or  I  lose  my  guess."  Then  I 
said  aloud : 

-Friend—" 

'There;   wait  a  bit.     I  am   not  your  friend,  I  am 
your  enemy;   I  am  not  your  equal,  I  am  your  master. 


Concerning  the  Carnival  of  Crime  in  Connecticut    315 

Call  me  '  my  lord,'  if  you  please.  You  are  too 
familiar." 

"  I  don't  like  such  titles.  I  am  willing  to  call  you 
sir.  That  is  as  far  as  — " 

"  We  will  have  no  argument  about  this.  Just  obey; 
that  is  all.  Go  on  with  your  chatter." 

"Very  well,  my  lord  —  since  nothing  but  my  lord 
will  suit  you  —  I  was  going  to  ask  you  how  long 
you  will  be  visible  to  me?" 

"Always!" 

I  broke  out  with  strong  indignation  :  ' '  This  is  simply 
an  outrage.  That  is  what  I  think  of  it.  You  have 
dogged,  and  dogged,  and  dogged  me,  all  the  days  of 
my  life,  invisible.  That  was  misery  enough;  now  to 
have  such  a  looking  thing  as  you  tagging  after  me  like 
another  shadow  all  the  rest  of  my  days  is  an  intolerable 
prospect.  You  have  my  opinion,  my  lord ;  make  the 
most  of  it." 

"My  lad,  there  was  never  so  pleased  a  conscience 
in  this  world  as  I  was  when  you  made  me  visible.  It 
gives  me  an  inconceivable  advantage.  Now  I  can  look 
you  straight  in  the  eye,  and  call  you  names,  and  leer 
at  you,  jeer  at  you,  sneer  at  you;  and  you  know  what 
eloquence  there  is  in  visible  gesture  and  expression, 
more  especially  when  the  effect  is  heightened  by  audible 
speech.  I  shall  always  address  you  henceforth  in  your 
o-w-n  s-n-i-v-e-1-i-n-g  d-r-a-w-1  —  baby  !" 

I  let  fly  with  the  coal-hod.  No  result.  My  lord 
said : 

"  Come,  come  !     Remember  the  flag  of  truce  !" 

"  Ah,  I  forgot  that.  I  will  try  to  be  civil;  and  you 
try  it,  too,  for  a  novelty.  The  idea  of  a  civil  con 
science !  It  is  a  good  joke;  an  excellent  joke.  All 
the  consciences  /  have  ever  heard  of  were  nagging, 
badgering,  fault-finding,  execrable  savages  !  Yes ;  and 
always  in  a  sweat  about  some  poor  little  insignificant 


316    Concerning  the  Carnival  of  Crime  in  Connecticut 

trifle  or  other  —  destruction  catch  the  lot  of  them,  / 
say !  I  would  trade  mine  for  the  small-pox  and  seven 
kinds  of  consumption,  and  be  glad  of  the  chance. 
Now  tell  me,  why  is  it  that  a  conscience  can't  haul  a 
man  over  the  coals  once,  for  an  offense,  and  then  let 
him  alone?  Why  is  it  that  it  wants  to  keep  on  pegging 
at  him,  day  and  night  and  night  and  day,  week  in  and 
week  out,  forever  and  ever,  about  the  same  old  thing? 
There  is  no  sense  in  that,  and  no  reason  in  it.  I  think 
a  conscience  that  will  act  like  that  is  meaner  than  the 
very  dirt  itself." 

"  Well,  we  like  it;   that  suffices." 

' '  Do  you  do  it  with  the  honest  intent  to  improve  a 
man?" 

That  question  produced  a  sarcastic  smile,  and  this 
reply : 

"  No,  sir.  Excuse  me.  We  do  it  simply  because 
it  is  '  business.'  It  is  our  trade.  The  purpose  of  it  is 
to  improve  the  man,  but  we  are  merely  disinterested 
agents.  We  are  appointed  by  authority,  and  haven't 
anything  to  say  in  the  matter.  We  obey  orders  and 
leave  the  consequences  where  they  belong.  But  I  am 
willing  to  admit  this  much :  we  do  crowd  the  orders  a 
trifle  when  we  get  a  chance,  which  is  most  of  the  time. 
We  enjoy  it.  We  are  instructed  to  remind  a  man  a 
few  times  of  an  error;  and  I  don't  mind  acknowledging 
that  we  try  to  give  pretty  good  measure.  And  when 
we  get  hold  of  a  man  of  a  peculiarly  sensitive  nature, 
oh,  but  we  do  haze  him !  I  have  consciences  to  come 
all  the  way  from  China  and  Russia  to  see  a  person  of 
that  kind  put  through  his  paces,  on  a  special  occasion. 
Why,  I  knew  a  man  of  that  sort  who  had  accidentally 
crippled  a  mulatto  baby;  the  news  went  abroad,  and  I 
wish  you  may  never  commit  another  sin  if  the  con 
sciences  didn't  flock  from  all  over  the  earth  to  enjoy 
the  fun  and  help  his  master  exercise  him.  That  man 


Concerning  the  Carnival  of  Crime  in  Connecticut    317 

walked  the  floor  in  torture  for  forty-eight  hours,  with 
out  eating  or  sleeping,  and  then  blew  his  brains  out. 
The  child  was  perfectly  well  again  in  three  weeks." 

'Well,  you  are  a  precious  crew,  not  to  put  it  too 
strong.  I  think  I  begin  to  see  now  why  you  have 
always  been  a  trifle  inconsistent  with  me.  In  your 
anxiety  to  get  all  the  juice  you  can  out  of  a  sin,  you 
make  a  man  repent  of  it  in  three  or  four  different  ways. 
For  instance,  you  found  fault  with  me  for  lying  to  that 
tramp,  and  I  suffered  over  that.  But  it  was  only 
yesterday  that  I  told  a  tramp  the  square  truth,  to  wit, 
that,  it  being  regarded  as  bad  citizenship  to  encourage 
vagrancy,  I  would  give  him  nothing.  What  did  you 
do  then  ?  Why,  you  made  me  say  to  myself,  *  Ah,  it 
would  have  been  so  much  kinder  and  more  blameless 
to  ease  him  off  with  a  little  white  lie,  and  send  him 
away  feeling  that  if  he  could  not  have  bread,  the  gentle 
treatment  was  at  least  something  to  be  grateful  for!' 
Well,  I  suffered  all  day  about  that.  Three  days  before 
I  had  fed  a  tramp,  and  fed  him  freely,  supposing  it  a 
virtuous  act.  Straight  off  you  said,  *  Oh,  false  citizen, 
to  have  fed  a  tramp  !'  and  I  suffered  as  usual.  I  gave 
a  tramp  work;  you  objected  to  it — after  the  contract 
was  made,  of  course;  you  never  speak  up  beforehand. 
Next,  I  refused  a  tramp  work;  you  objected  to  that. 
Next,  I  proposed  to  kill  a  tramp ;  you  kept  me  awake 
all  night,  oozing  remorse  at  every  pore.  Sure  I  was 
going  to  be  right  this  time,  I  sent  the  next  tramp  away 
with  my  benediction;  and  I  wish  you  may  live  as  long 
as  I  do,  if  you  didn't  make  me  smart  all  night  again 
because  I  didn't  kill  him.  Is  there  any  way  of  satisfy 
ing  that  malignant  invention  which  is  called  a  con 
science?" 

14  Ha,  ha  !  this  is  luxury  !     Go  on  !" 

"  But  come,  now,  answer  me  that  question.    Is  there 
any  way?" 


318    Concerning  the  Carnival  of  Crime  in  Connecticut 

"Well,  none  that  I  propose  to  tell  you,  my  son. 
Ass !  I  don't  care  what  act  you  may  turn  your  hand 
to,  I  can  straightway  whisper  a  word  in  your  ear  and 
make  you  think  you  have  committed  a  dreadful  mean 
ness.  It  is  my  business —  and  my  joy  —  to  make  you 
repent  of  everything  you  do.  If  I  have  fooled  away 
any  opportunities  it  was  not  intentional;  I  beg  to 
assure  you  it  was  not  intentional ! ' ' 

"  Don't  worry ;  you  haven't  missed  a  trick  that  1 
know  of.  I  never  did  a  thing  in  all  my  life,  virtuous 
or  otherwise,  that  I  didn't  repent  of  in  twenty-four 
hours.  In  church  last  Sunday  I  listened  to  a  charity 
sermon.  My  first  impulse  was  to  give  three  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars ;  I  repented  of  that  and  reduced  it  a 
hundred ;  repented  of  that  and  reduced  it  another  hun 
dred  ;  repented  of  that  and  reduced  it  another  hundred  ; 
repented  of  that  and  reduced  the  remaining  fifty  to 
twenty-five  ;  repented  of  that  and  came  down  to  fifteen  ; 
repented  of  that  and  dropped  to  two  dollars  and  a  half ; 
when  the  plate  came  around  at  last,  I  repented  once 
more  and  contributed  ten  cents.  Well,  when  I  got 
home,  I  did  wish  to  goodness  I  had  that  ten  cents  back 
again  !  You  never  did  let  me  get  through  a  charity 
sermon  without  having  something  to  sweat  about." 

"  Oh,  and  I  never  shall,  I  never  shall.  You  can 
always  depend  on  me." 

"I  think  so.  Many  and  many's  the  restless  night 
I've  wanted  to  take  you  by  the  neck.  If  I  could  only 
get  hold  of  you  now  ! ' ' 

1  Yes,  no  doubt.  But  I  am  not  an  ass;  I  am  only 
the  saddle  of  an  ass.  But  go  on,  go  on.  You  enter 
tain  me  more  than  I  like  to  confess." 

' '  I  am  glad  of  that.  (You  will  not  mind  my  lying 
a  little,  to  keep  in  practice.)  Look  here;  not  to  be 
too  personal,  I  think  you  are  about  the  shabbiest  and 
most  contemptible  little  shriveled-up  reptile  that  can  be 


Concerning  the  Carnival  of  Crime  in  Connecticut    319 

imagined.  I  am  grateful  enough  that  you  are  invisible 
to  other  people,  for  I  should  die  with  shame  to  be  seen 
with  such  a  mildewed  monkey  of  a  conscience  as  you 
are.  Now  if  you  were  five  or  six  feet  high,  and — " 

"  Oh,  come  !   who  is  to  blame?" 

"  /don't  know." 

"Why,  you  are;    nobody  else." 

"  Confound  you,  I  wrasn't  consulted  about  your  per 
sonal  appearance." 

"  I  don't  care,  you  had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  it, 
nevertheless.  When  you  were  eight  or  nine  years  old, 
I  was  seven  feet  high,  and  as  pretty  as  a  picture." 

"  I  wish  you  had  died  young!  So  you  have  grown 
the  wrong  way,  have  you?" 

"  Some  of  us  grow  one  way  and  some  the  other. 
You  had  a  large  conscience  once;  if  you've  a  small 
conscience  now  I  reckon  there  are  reasons  for  it. 
However,  both  of  us  are  to  blame,  you  and  I.  You 
see,  you  used  to  be  conscientious  about  a  great  many 
things;  morbidly  so,  I  may  say.  It  was  a  great  many 
years  ago.  You  probably  do  not  remember  it  now. 
Well,  I  took  a  great  interest  in  my  work,  and  I  so 
enjoyed  the  anguish  which  certain  pet  sins  of  yours 
afflicted  you  with,  that  I  kept  pelting  at  you  until  I 
rather  overdid  the  matter.  You  began  to  rebel.  Of 
course  I  began  to  lose  ground,  then,  and  shrivel  a  little 
• —  diminish  in  stature,  get  mouldy,  and  grow  deformed. 
The  more  I  weakened,  the  more  stubbornly  you  fastened 
on  to  those  particular  sins ;  till  at  last  the  places  on  my 
person  that  represent  those  vices  became  as  callous  as 
shark  skin.  Take  smoking,  for  instance.  I  played 
that  card  a  little  too  long,  and  I  lost.  When  people 
plead  with  you  at  this  late  day  to  quit  that  vice,  that 
old  callous  place  seems  to  enlarge  and  cover  me  all 
over  like  a  shirt  of  mail.  It  exerts  a  mysterious, 
smothering  effect;  and  presently  I,  your  faithful  hater, 


320    Concerning  the  Carnivu.1  of  Crime  in  Connecticut 

your  devoted  Conscience,  go  sound  asleep!  Sound? 
It  is  no  name  for  it.  I  couldn't  hear  it  thunder  at 
such  a  time.  You  have  some  few  other  vices  —  per 
haps  eighty,  or  maybe  ninety  —  that  affect  me  in  much 
the  same  way." 

' '  This  is  flattering ;  you  must  be  asleep  a  good  part 
of  your  time." 

'  Yes,  of  late  years.     I   should   be  asleep   all  the 
time,  but  for  the  help  I  get." 

"Who  helps  you?" 

14  Other  consciences.  Whenever  a  person  whose 
conscience  I  am  acquainted  with  tries  to  plead  with 
you  about  the  vices  you  are  callous  to,  I  get  my  friend 
to  give  his  client  a  pang  concerning  some  villainy  of  his 
own,  and  that  shuts  off  his  meddling  and  starts  him  off 
to  hunt  personal  consolation.  My  field  of  usefulness 
is  about  trimmed  down  to  tramps,  budding  authoresses, 
and  that  line  of  goods  now;  but  don't  you  worry  — 
I'll  harry  you  on  them  while  they  last!  Just  you  put 
your  trust  in  me." 

"I  think  I  can.  But  if  you  had  only  been  good 
enough  to  mention  these  facts  some  thirty  years  ago,  I 
should  have  turned  my  particular  attention  to  sin,  and 
I  think  that  by  this  time  I  should  not  only  have  had 
you  pretty  permanently  asleep  on  the  entire  list  of 
human  vices,  but  reduced  to  the  size  of  a  homoeopathic 
pill,  at  that.  That  is  about  the  style  of  conscience  / 
am  pining  for.  If  I  only  had  you  shrunk  down  to  a 
homoeopathic  pill,  and  could  get  my  hands  on  you, 
would  I  put  you  in  a  glass  case  for  a  keepsake?  No, 
sir.  I  would  give  you  to  a  yellow  dog !  That  is  where 
you  ought  to  be  —  you  and  all  your  tribe.  You  are 
not  fit  to  be  in  society,  in  my  opinion.  Now  another 
question.  Do  you  know  a  good  many  consciences  in 
this  section?" 

"Plenty  of  them." 


Concerning  the  Carnival  of  Crime  in  Connecticut    321 

"I  would  give  anything  to  see  some  of  them! 
Could  you  bring  them  here?  And  would  they  be 
visible  to  me?" 

"  Certainly  not." 

"  I  suppose  I  ought  to  have  known  that  without  ask 
ing.  But  no  matter,  you  can  describe  them.  Tell  me 
about  my  neighbor  Thompson's  conscience,  please." 

"Very  well.  I  know  him  intimately;  have  known 
him  many  years.  I  knew  him  when  he  was  eleven  feet 
high  and  of  a  faultless  figure.  But  he  is  very  rusty 
and  tough  and  misshapen  now,  and  hardly  ever  interests 
himself  about  anything.  As  to  his  present  size — -well, 
he  sleeps  in  a  cigar  box." 

"Likely  enough.  There  are  few  smaller,  meaner 
men  in  this  region  than  Hugh  Thompson.  Do  you 
know  Robinson's  conscience?" 

"Yes.  He  is  a  shade  under  four  and  a  half  feet 
high ;  used  to  be  a  blonde ;  is  a  brunette  now,  but  still 
shapely  and  comely." 

"Well,  Robinson  is  a  good  fellow.  Do  you  know 
Tom  Smith's  conscience?" 

"  I  have  known  him  from  childhood.  He  was 
thirteen  inches  high,  and  rather  sluggish,  when  he  was 
two  years  old  —  as  nearly  all  of  us  are  at  that  age.  He 
is  thirty-seven  feet  high  now,  and  the  stateliest  figure 
in  America.  His  legs  are  still  racked  with  growing- 
pains,  but  he  has  a  good  time,  nevertheless.  Never 
sleeps.  He  is  the  most  active  and  energetic  member 
of  the  New  England  Conscience  Club ;  is  president  of 
it.  Night  and  day  you  can  find  him  pegging  away  at 
Smith,  panting  with  his  labor,  sleeves  rolled  up, 
countenance  all  alive  with  enjoyment.  He  has  got  his 
victim  splendidly  dragooned  now.  He  can  make  poor 
Smith  imagine  that  the  most  innocent  little  thing  he 
does  is  an  odious  sin ;  and  then  he  sets  to  work  and 
almost  tortures  the  soul  out  of  him  about  it." 
21** 


322    Concerning  the  Carnival  of  Crime  in  Connecticut 

"  Smith  is  the  noblest  man  in  all  this  section,  and 
the  purest;  and  yet  is  always  breaking  his  heart  be 
cause  he  cannot  be  good  !  Only  a  conscience  could 
find  pleasure  in  heaping  agony  upon  a  spirit  like  that. 
Do  you  know  my  aunt  Mary's  conscience?" 

"I  have  seen  her  at  a  distance,  but  am  not  ac 
quainted  with  her.  She  lives  in  the  open  air  altogether, 
because  no  door  is  large  enough  to  admit  her." 

;<  I  can  believe  that.  Let  me  see.  Do  you  know 
the  conscience  of  that  publisher  who  once  stole  some 
sketches  of  mine  for  a  '  series  '  of  his,  and  then  left  me 
to  pay  the  law  expenses  I  had  to  incur  in  order  to 
choke  him  off?" 

"  Yes.  He  has  a  wide  fame.  He  was  exhibited,  a 
month  ago,  with  some  other  antiquities,  for  the  benefit 
of  a  recent  Member  of  the  Cabinet's  conscience  that 
was  starving  in  exile.  Tickets  and  fares  were  high, 
but  I  traveled  for  nothing  by  pretending  to  be  the  con 
science  of  an  editor,  and  got  in  for  half-price  by  repre 
senting  myself  to  be  the  conscience  of  a  clergyman. 
However,  the  publisher's  conscience,  which  was  to 
have  been  the  main  feature  of  the  entertainment,  was  a 
failure  —  as  an  exhibition.  He  was  there,  but  what  of 
that?  The  management  had  provided  a  microscope 
with  a  magnifying  power  of  only  thirty  thousand 
diameters,  and  so  nobody  got  to  see  him,  after  all. 
There  was  great  and  general  dissatisfaction,  of  course, 
but—" 

Just  here  there  was  an  eager  footstep  on  the  stair ;  I 
opened  the  door,  and  my  aunt  Mary  burst  into  the 
room.  It  was  a  joyful  meeting  and  a  cheery  bombard 
ment  of  questions  and  answers  concerning  family  mat 
ters  ensued.  By  and  by  my  aunt  said : 

"  But  I  am  going  to  abuse  you  a  little  now.  You 
promised  me,  the  day  I  saw  you  last,  that  you  would 
look  after  the  needs  of  the  poor  family  around  the 


Concerning  the  Carnival  of  Crime  in  Connecticut    323 

corner  as  faithfully  as  I  had  done  it  myself.  Well,  I 
found  out  by  accident  that  you  failed  of  your  promise. 
Was  that  right?" 

In  simple  truth,  I  never  had  thought  of  that  family  a 
second  time !  And  now  such  a  splintering  pang  of 
guilt  shot  through  me  !  I  glanced  up  at  my  Conscience. 
Plainly,  my  heavy  heart  was  affecting  him.  His  body 
was  drooping  forward ;  he  seemed  about  to  fall  from 
the  bookcase.  My  aunt  continued  : 

"  And  think  how  you  have  neglected  my  poor  protigt 
at  the  almshouse,  you  dear,  hard-hearted  promise- 
breaker!"  I  blushed  scarlet,  and  my  tongue  was  tied. 
As  the  sense  of  my  guilty  negligence  waxed  sharper 
and  stronger,  my  Conscience  began  to  sway  heavily 
back  and  forth ;  and  when  my  aunt,  after  a  little  pause, 
said  in  a  grieved  tone,  *'  Since  you  never  once  went  to 
see  her,  maybe  it  will  not  distress  you  now  to  know 
that  that  poor  child  died,  months  ago,  utterly  friendless 
and  forsaken  !"  my  Conscience  could  no  longer  bear 
up  under  the  weight  of  my  sufferings,  but  tumbled 
headlong  from  his  high  perch  and  struck  the  floor  with 
a  dull,  leaden  thump.  He  lay  there  writhing  with  pain 
and  quaking  with  apprehension,  but  straining  every 
muscle  in  frantic  efforts  to  get.  up.  In  a  fever  of  ex 
pectancy  I  sprang  to  the  door,  locked  it,  placed  my 
back  against  it,  and  bent  a  watchful  gaze  upon  my 
struggling  master.  Already  my  fingers  were  itching  to 
begin  their  murderous  work. 

"  Oh,  what  can  be  the  matter!"  exclaimed  by  aunt, 
shrinking  from  me,  and  following  with  her  frightened 
eyes  the  direction  of  mine.  My  breath  was  coming  in 
short,  quick  gasps  now,  and  my  excitement  was  almost 
uncontrollable.  My  aunt  cried  out: 

"  Oh,  do  not  look  so  !  You  appall  me  !  Oh,  what 
can  the  matter  be  ?  What  is  it  you  see  ?  Why  do  you 
stare  so?  Why  do  you  work  your  fingers  like  that?'7 


324    Concerning  the  Carnival  of  Crime  in  Connecticut 

"Peace,  woman!"  I  said,  in  a  hoarse  whisper. 
"Look  elsewhere;  pay  no  attention  to  me;  it  is 
nothing — nothing.  I  am  often  this  way.  It  will 
pass  in  a  moment.  It  comes  from  smoking  too 
much." 

My  injured  lord  was  up,  wild-eyed  with  terror,  and 
trying  to  hobble  toward  the  door.  I  could  hardly 
breathe,  I  was  so  wrought  up.  My  aunt  wrung  her 
hands,  and  said : 

"  Oh,  I  knew  how  it  would  be ;  I  knew  it  would  come 
to  this  at  last !  Oh,  I  implore  you  to  crush  out  that  fatal 
habit  while  it  may  yet  be  time  !  You  must  not,  you 
shall  not  be  deaf  to  my  supplications  longer!"  My 
struggling  Conscience  showed  sudden  signs  of  weari 
ness  !  "  Oh,  promise  me  you  will  throw  off  this  hate 
ful  slavery  of  tobacco!"  My  Conscience  began  to 
reel  drowsily,  and  grope  with  his  hands  —  enchanting 
spectacle !  "I  beg  you,  I  beseech  you,  I  implore  you  ! 
Your  reason  is  deserting  you  !  There  is  madness  in 
your  eye  !  It  flames  with  frenzy  !  Oh,  hear  me,  hear 
me,  and  be  saved  !  See,  I  plead  with  you  on  my  very 
knees!"  As  she  sank  before  me  my  Conscience  reeled 
again,  and  then  drooped  languidly  to  the  floor,  blink 
ing  toward  me  a  last  supplication  for  mercy,  with  heavy 
eyes.  "Oh,  promise,  or  you  are  lost!  Promise,  and 
be  redeemed!  Promise!  Promise  and  live!"  With 
a  long-drawn  sigh  my  conquered  Conscience  closed  his 
eyes  and  fell  fast  asleep  ! 

With  an  exultant  shout  I  sprang  past  my  aunt,  and 
in  an  instant  I  had  my  lifelong  foe  by  the  throat. 
After  so  many  years  of  waiting  and  longing,  he  was  mine 
at  last.  I  tore  him  to  shreds  and  fragments.  I  rent 
the  fragments  to  bits.  I  cast  the  bleeding  rubbish  into 
the  fire,  and  drew  into  my  nostrils  the  grateful  incense 
of  my  burnt-offering.  At  last,  and  forever,  my  Con 
science  was  dead ! 


Concerning  the  Carnival  of  Crime  in  Connecticut    325 

I  was  a  free  man !  I  turned  upon  my  poor  aunt, 
who  was  almost  petrified  with  terror,  and  shouted : 

'*  Out  of  this  with  your  paupers,  your  charities,  your 
reforms,  your  pestilent  morals !  You  behold  before 
you  a  man  whose  life-conflict  is  done,  whose  soul  is  at 
peace ;  a  man  whose  heart  is  dead  to  sorrow,  dead  to 
suffering,  dead  to  remorse;  a  man  WITHOUT  A  CON 
SCIENCE!  In  my  joy  I  spare  you,  though  I  could 
throttle  you  and  never  feel  a  pang  !  Fly  ! ' ' 

She  fled.  Since  that  day  my  life  is  all  bliss.  Bliss, 
unalloyed  bliss.  Nothing  in  all  the  world  could  per 
suade  me  to  have  a  conscience  again.  I  settled  all  my 
old  outstanding  scores,  and  began  the  world  anew.  I 
killed  thirty-eight  persons  during  the  first  two  weeks  — 
all  of  them  on  account  of  ancient  grudges.  I  burned  a 
dwelling  that  interrupted  my  view.  I  swindled  a  widow 
and  some  orphans  out  of  their  last  cow,  which  is  a  very 
good  one,  though  not  thoroughbred,  I  believe.  I  have 
also  committed  scores  of  crimes,  of  various  kinds,  and 
have  enjoyed  my  work  exceedingly,  whereas  it  would 
formerly  have  broken  my  heart  and  turned  my  hair 
gray,  I  have  no  doubt. 

In  conclusion,  I  wish  to  state,  by  way  of  advertise 
ment,  that  medical  colleges  desiring  assorted  tramps 
for  scientific  purposes,  either  by  the  gross,  by  cord 
measurement,  or  per  ton,  will  do  well  to  examine  the 
lot  in  my  cellar  before  purchasing  elsewhere,  as  these 
were  all  selected  and  prepared  by  myself,  and  can  be 
had  at  a  low  rate,  because  I  wish  to  clear  out  my  stock 
and  get  ready  for  the  spring  trade. 


ABOUT  MAGNANIMOUS-INCIDENT 
LITERATURE 


ALL  my  life,  from  boyhood  up,  I  have  had  the  habit 
of  reading  a  certain  set  of  anecdotes,  written  in 
the  quaint  vein  of  The  World's  ingenious  Fabulist,  for 
the  lesson  they  taught  me  and  the  pleasure  they  gave 
me.  They  lay  always  convenient  to  my  hand,  and 
whenever  I  thought  meanly  of  my  kind  I  turned  to 
them,  and  they  banished  that  sentiment;  whenever  I 
felt  myself  to  be  selfish,  sordid,  and  ignoble  I  turned 
to  them,  and  they  told  me  what  to  do  to  win  back  my 
self-respect.  Many  times  I  wished  that  the  charming 
anecdotes  had  not  stopped  with  their  happy  climaxes, 
but  had  continued  the  pleasing  history  of  the  several 
benefactors  and  beneficiaries.  This  wish  rose  in  my 
breast  so  persistently  that  at  last  I  determined  to  satisfy 
it  by  seeking  out  the  sequels  of  those  anecdotes  myself. 
So  I  set  about  it,  and  after  great  labor  and  tedious  re 
search  accomplished  my  task.  I  will  lay  the  result  be 
fore  you,  giving  you  each  anecdote  in  its  turn,  and  fol 
lowing  it  with  its  sequel  as  I  gathered  it  through  my 
investigations. 

THE  GRATEFUL   POODLE 

One  day  a  benevolent  physician  (who  had  read  the 
books)  having  found  a  stray  poodle  suffering  from  a 
broken  leg,  conveyed  the  poor  creature  to  his  home, 

(326) 


About  Magnanimous-Incident  Literature          327 

and  after  setting  and  bandaging  the  injured  limb  gave 
the  little  outcast  its  liberty  again,  and  thought  no  more 
about  the  matter.  But  how  great  was  his  surprise, 
upon  opening  his  door  one  morning,  some  days  later, 
to  find  the  grateful  poodle  patiently  waiting  there,  and 
in  its  company  another  stray  dog,  one  of  whose  legs, 
by  some  accident,  had  been  broken.  The  kind  physi 
cian  at  once  relieved  the  distressed  animal,  nor  did  he 
forget  to  admire  the  inscrutable  goodness  and  mercy  of 
God,  who  had  been  willing  to  use  so  humble  an  instru 
ment  as  the  poor  outcast  poodle  for  the  inculcating  of, 
etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

SEQUEL 

The  next  morning  the  benevolent  physician  found 
the  two  dogs,  beaming  with  gratitude,  waiting  at  his 
door,  and  with  them  two  other  dogs  —  cripples.  The 
cripples  were  speedily  healed,  and  the  four  went  their 
way,  leaving  the  benevolent  physician  more  overcome 
by  pious  wonder  than  ever.  The  day  passed,  the 
morning  came.  There  at  the  door  sat  now  the  four 
reconstructed  dogs,  and  with  them  four  others  requir 
ing  reconstruction.  This  day  also  passed,  and  another 
morning  came;  and  now  sixteen  dogs,  eight  of  them 
newly  crippled,  occupied  the  sidewalk,  and  the  people 
were  going  around.  By  noon  the  broken  legs  were  all 
set,  but  the  pious  wonder  in  the  good  physician's 
breast  was  beginning  to  get  mixed  with  involuntary 
profanity.  The  sun  rose  once  more,  and  exhibited 
thirty- two  dogs,  sixteen  of  them  with  broken  legs,  oc 
cupying  the  sidewalk  and  half  of  the  street ;  the  human 
spectators  took  up  the  rest  of  the  room.  The  cries  of 
the  wounded,  the  songs  of  the  healed  brutes,  and  the 
comments  of  the  on-looking  citizens  made  great  and  in 
spiring  cheer,  but  traffic  was  interrupted  in  that  street. 
The  good  physician  hired  a  couple  of  assistant  surgeons 


328          About  Magnanimous-Incident  Literature 

and  got  through  his  benevolent  work  before  dark,  first 
taking  the  precaution  to  cancel  his  church  membership, 
so  that  he  might  express  himself  with  the  latitude  which 
the  case  required. 

But  some  things  have  their  limits.  When  once  more 
the  morning  dawned,  and  the  good  physician  looked 
out  upon  a  massed  and  far-reaching  multitude  of 
clamorous  and  beseeching  dogs,  he  said,  "I  might  as 
well  acknowledge  it,  I  have  been  fooled  by  the  books ; 
they  only  tell  the  pretty  part  of  the  story,  and  then 
stop.  Fetch  me  the  shotgun  ;  this  thing  has  gone  along 
far  enough." 

He  issued  forth  with  his  weapon,  and  chanced  to  step 
upon  the  tail  of  the  original  poodle,  who  promptly  bit 
him  in  the  leg.  Now  the  great  and  good  work  which 
this  poodle  had  been  engaged  in  had  engendered  in  him 
such  a  mighty  and  augmenting  enthusiasm  as  to  turn 
his  weak  head  at  last  and  drive  him  mad.  A  month 
later,  when  the  benevolent  physician  lay  in  the  death 
throes  of  hydrophobia,  he  called  his  weeping  friends 
about  him,  and  said  : 

"Beware  of  the  books.  They  tell  but  half  of  the 
story.  Whenever  a  poor  wretch  asks  you  for  help, 
and  you  feel  a  doubt  as  to  what  result  may  flow  from 
your  benevolence,  give  yourself  the  benefit  of  the 
doubt  and  kill  the  applicant." 

And  so  saying  he  turned  his  face  to  the  wall  and  gave 
up  the  ghost. 

THE  BENEVOLENT  AUTHOR 

A  poor  and  young  literary  beginner  had  tried  in  vain 
to  get  his  manuscripts  accepted.  At  last,  when  the 
horrors  of  starvation  were  staring  him  in  the  face,  he 
laid  his  sad  case  before  a  celebrated  author,  beseeching 
his  counsel  and  assistance.  This  generous  man  im 
mediately  put  aside  his  own  matters  and  proceeded  to 


About  Magnanimous- Incident  Literature          329 

peruse  one  of  the  despised  manuscripts.  Having  com 
pleted  his  kindly  task,  he  shook  the  poor  young  man 
cordially  by  the  hand,  saying,  **  I  perceive  merit  in 
this;  come  again  to  me  on  Monday."  At  the  time 
specified,  the  celebrated  author,  with  a  sweet  smile,  but 
saying  nothing,  spread  open  a  magazine  which  was 
damp  from  the  press.  What  was  the  poor  young  man's 
astonishment  to  discover  upon  the  printed  page  his 
own  article.  "  How  can  I  ever,"  said  he,  falling  upon 
his  knees  and  bursting  into  tears,  "  testify  my  gratitude 
for  this  noble  conduct!" 

The  celebrated  author  was  the  renowned  Snodgrass ; 
the  poor  young  beginner  thus  rescued  from  obscurity 
and  starvation  was  the  afterwards  equally  renowned 
Snagsby.  Let  this  pleasing  incident  admonish  us  to 
turn  a  charitable  ear  to  all  beginners  that  need  help. 

SEQUEL 

The  next  week  Snagsby  was  back  with  five  rejected 
manuscripts.  The  celebrated  author  was  a  little  sur 
prised,  because  in  the  books  the  young  struggler  had 
needed  but  one  lift,  apparently.  However,  he 
plowed  through  these  papers,  removing  unnecessary 
flowers  and  digging  up  some  acres  of  adjective  stumps, 
and  then  succeeded  in  getting  two  of  the  articles 
accepted. 

A  week  or  so  drifted  by,  and  the  grateful  Snagsby 
arrived  with  another  cargo.  The  celebrated  author 
had  felt  a  mighty  glow  of  satisfaction  within  himself  the 
first  time  he  had  successfully  befriended  the  poor  young 
struggler,  and  had  compared  himself  with  the  generous 
people  in  the  books  with  high  gratification ;  but  he  was 
beginning  to  suspect  now  that  he  had  struck  upon  some 
thing  fresh  in  the  noble-episode  line.  His  enthusiasm 
took  a  chill.  Still,  he  could  not  bear  to  repulse  this 


330          About  Magnanimous-Incident  Literature 

struggling  young  author,  who  clung  to  him  with  such 
pretty  simplicity  and  trustfulness. 

Well,  the  upshot  of  it  all  was  that  the  celebrated 
author  presently  found  himself  permanently  freighted 
with  the  poor  young  beginner.  All  his  mild  efforts  to 
unload  this  cargo  went  for  nothing.  He  had  to  give 
daily  counsel,  daily  encouragement;  he  had  to  keep  on 
procuring  magazine  acceptances,  and  then  revamping 
the  manuscripts  to  make  them  presentable.  When  the 
young  aspirant  got  a  start  at  last,  he  rode  into  sudden 
fame  by  describing  the  celebrated  author's  private  life 
with  such  a  caustic  humor  and  such  minuteness  of  blis 
tering  detail  that  the  book  sold  a  prodigious  edition,  and 
broke  the  celebrated  author's  heart  with  mortification. 
With  his  latest  gasp  he  said,  "Alas,  the  books  deceived 
me ;  they  do  not  tell  the  whole  story.  Beware  of  the 
struggling  young  author,  my  friends.  Whom  God  sees 
fit  to  starve,  let  not  man  presumptuously  rescue  to  his 
own  undoing." 

THE  GRATEFUL  HUSBAND 

One  day  a  lady  was  driving  through  the  principal 
street  of  a  great  city  with  her  little  boy,  when  the  horses 
took  fright  and  dashed  madly  away,  hurling  the  coach 
man  from  his  box  and  leaving  the  occupants  of  the  car 
riage  paralyzed  with  terror.  But  a  brave  youth  who 
was  driving  a  grocery  wagon  threw  himself  before  the 
plunging  animals,  and  succeeded  in  arresting  their 
flight  at  the  peril  of  his  own.*  The  grateful  lady  took 
his  number,  and  upon  arriving  at  her  home  she  related 
the  heroic  act  to  her  husband  (who  had  read  the  books) , 
who  listened  with  streaming  eyes  to  the  moving  recital, 
and  who,  after  returning  thanks,  in  conjunction  with  his 
restored  loved  ones,  to  Him  who  suffereth  not  even  a 
sparrow  to  fall  to  the  ground  unnoticed,  sent  for  the 

*  This  is  probably  a  misprint. —  M.  T. 


About  Magnanimous-Incident  Literature          331 

brave  young  person,  and,  placing  a  check  for  five 
hundred  dollars  in  his  hand,  said,  "  Take  this  as  a  re 
ward  for  your  noble  act,  William  Ferguson,  and  if  ever 
you  shall  need  a  friend,  remember  that  Thompson  Mc- 
Spadden  has  a  grateful  heart. ' '  Let  us  learn  from  this 
that  a  good  deed  cannot  fail  to  benefit  the  doer,  how 
ever  humble  he  may  be. 

SEQUEL 

William  Ferguson  called  the  next  week  and  asked 
Mr.  McSpadden  to  use  his  influence  to  get  him  a 
higher  employment,  he  feeling  capable  of  better  things 
than  driving  a  grocer's  wagon.  Mr.  McSpadden  got 
him  an  underclerkship  at  a  good  salary. 

Presently  William  Ferguson's  mother  fell  sick,  and 
William —  Well,  to  cut  the  story  short,  Mr.  Mc 
Spadden  consented  to  take  her  into  his  house.  Before 
long  she  yearned  for  the  society  of  her  younger 
children;  so  Mary  and  Julia  were  admitted  also,  and 
little  Jimmy,  their  brother.  Jimmy  had  a  pocket-knife, 
and  he  wandered  into  the  drawing-room  with  it  one 
day,  alone,  and  reduced  ten  thousand  dollars'  worth  of 
furniture  to  an  indeterminable  value  in  rather  less  than 
three-quarters  of  an  hour.  A  day  or  two  later  he  fell 
downstairs  and  broke  his  neck,  and  seventeen  of  his 
family's  relatives  came  to  the  house  to  attend  the 
funeral.  This  made  them  acquainted,  and  they  kept 
the  kitchen  occupied  after  that,  and  likewise  kept  the 
McSpaddens  busy  hunting  up  situations  of  various  sorts 
for  them,  and  hunting  up  more  when  they  wore  these 
out.  The  old  woman  drank  a  good  deal  and  swore  a  good 
deal ;  but  the  grateful  McSpaddens  knew  it  was  their 
duty  to  reform  her,  considering  what  her  son  had  done 
for  them,  so  they  clave  nobly  to  their  generous  task. 
William  came  often  and  got  decreasing  sums  of  money, 
and  asked  for  higher  and  more  lucrative  employments 


332  About  Magnanimous-Incident  Literature 

—  which  the  grateful  McSpadden  more  or  less  promptly 
procured  for  him.  McSpadden  consented  also,  after 
some  demur,  to  fit  William  for  college ;  but  when  the 
first  vacation  came  and  the  hero  requested  to  be  sent  to 
Europe  for  his  health,  the  persecuted  McSpadden  rose 
against  the  tyrant  and  revolted.  He  plainly  and 
squarely  refused.  William  Ferguson's  mother  was  so 
astounded  that  she  let  her  gin-bottle  drop,  and  her  pro 
fane  lips  refused  to  do  their  office.  When  she  re 
covered  she  said  in  a  half -gasp,  "  Is  this  your  gratitude? 
Where  would  your  wife  and  boy  be  now,  but  for  my 
son?" 

William  said,  "  Is  this  your  gratitude?  Did  I  save 
your  wife's  life  or  not?  Tell  me  that!" 

Seven  relations  swarmed  in  from  the  kitchen  and  each 
said,  "And  this  is  his  gratitude!" 

William's  sisters  stared,  bewildered,  and  said,  "And 
this  is  his  grat — "  but  were  interrupted  by  their 
mother,  who  burst  into  tears  and  exclaimed,  'To 
think  that  my  sainted  little  Jimmy  threw  away  his  life 
in  the  service  of  such  a  reptile !" 

Then  the  pluck  of  the  revolutionary  McSpadden  rose 
to  the  occasion,  and  he  replied  with  fervor,  "  Out  of 
my  house,  the  whole  beggarly  tribe  of  you  !  I  was 
beguiled  by  the  books,  but  shall  never  be  beguiled 
again  —  once  is  sufficient  for  me."  And  turning  to 
William  he  shouted,  "  Yes,  you  did  save  my  wife's  life, 
and  the  next  man  that  does  it  shall  die  in  his  tracks !" 

Not  being  a  clergyman,  I  place  my  text  at  the  end 
of  my  sermon  instead  of  at  the  beginning.  Here  it  is, 
from  Mr.  Noah  Brooks' s  Recollections  of  President 
Lincoln  in  Scribner' s  Monthly  : 

J.  H.  Hackett,  in  his  part  of  Falstaff,  was  an  actor  who  gave  Mr. 
Lincoln  great  delight.  With  his  usual  desire  to  signify  to  others  his  sense 


About  Magnanimous-Incident  Literature          333 

of  obligation,  Mr.  Lincoln  wrote  a  genial  little  note  to  the  actor  expressing 
his  pleasure  at  witnessing  his  performance.  Mr.  Hackett,  in  reply,  sent  a 
book  of  some  sort;  perhaps  it  was  one  of  his  own  authorship.  He  also 
wrote  several  notes  to  the  President.  One  night,  quite  late,  when  the  epi 
sode  had  passed  out  of  my  mind,  I  went  to  the  White  House  in  answer  to  a 
message.  Passing  into  the  President's  office,  I  noticed,  to  my  surprise, 
Hackett  sitting  in  the  anteroom  as  if  waiting  for  an  audience.  The  Presi 
dent  asked  me  if  any  one  was  outside.  On  being  told,  he  said,  half 
sadly,  "  Oh,  I  can't  see  him,  I  can't  see  him;  I  was  in  hopes  he  had  gone 
away."  Then  he  added,  "Now  this  just  illustrates  the  difficulty  of  having 
pleasant  friends  and  acquaintances  in  this  place.  You  know  how  1  liked 
Hackett  as  an  actor,  and  how  I  wrote  to  tell  him  so.  He  sent  me  that 
book,  and  there  I  thought  the  matter  would  end.  He  is  a  master  of  his 
place  in  the  profession,  I  suppose,  and  well  fixed  in  it;  but  just  because  we 
had  a  little  friendly  correspondence,  such  as  any  two  men  might  have,  he 
wants  something.  What  do  you  suppose  he  wants  ?  "  I  could  not  guess, 
and  Mr.  Lincoln  added,  "Well,  he  wants  to  be  consul  to  London.  Oh, 
dear!" 

I  will  observe,  in  conclusion,  that  the  William  Fer 
guson  incident  occurred,  and  within  my  personal  knowl 
edge —  though  I  have  changed  the  nature  of  the  de 
tails,  to  keep  William  from  recognizing  himself  in  it. 

All  the  readers  of  this  article  have  in  some  sweet  and 
gushing  hour  of  their  lives  played  the  role  of  Magnan 
imous-Incident  hero.  I  wish  I  knew  how  many  there 
are  among  them  who  are  willing  to  talk  about  that 
episode  and  like  to  be  reminded  of  the  consequences 
that  flowed  from  it. 


PUNCH,  BROTHERS,  PUNCH 


WILL  the  reader  please  to  cast  his  eye  over  the  fol 
lowing  lines,  and  see  if  he  can  discover  anything 
harmful  in  them? 

Conductor,  when  you  receive  a  fare, 
Punch  in  the  presence  of  the  passenjare ! 
A  blue  trip  slip  for  an  eight-cent  fare, 
A  buff  trip  slip  for  a  six-cent  fare, 
A  pink  trip  slip  for  a  three-cent  fare, 
Punch  in  the  presence  of  the  passenjare ! 

CHORUS 

Punch,  brothers!    punch  with  care ! 
Punch  in  the  presence  of  the  passenjare ! 

I  came  across  these  jingling  rhymes  in  a  newspaper, 
a  little  while  ago,  and  read  them  a  couple  of  times. 
They  took  instant  and  entire  possession  of  me.  All 
through  breakfast  they  went  waltzing  through  my  brain  ; 
and  when,  at  last,  I  rolled  up  my  napkin,  I  could  not 
tell  whether  I  had  eaten  anything  or  not.  I  had  care 
fully  laid  out  my  day's  work  the  day  before  —  a  thrill 
ing  tragedy  in  the  novel  which  I  am  writing.  I  went 
to  my  den  to  begin  my  deed  of  blood.  I  took  up  my 
pen,  but  all  I  could  get  it  to  say  was,  "  Punch  in  the 
presence  of  the  passenjare."  I  fought  hard  for  an 
hour,  but  it  was  useless.  My  head  kept  humming, 

(334) 


Punch,  Brothers,  Punch  335 

"A  blue  trip  slip  for  an  eight-cent  fare,  a  buff  trip  slip 
for  a  six-cent  fare,"  and  so  on  and  so  on,  without 
peace  or  respite.  The  day's  work  was  ruined  —  I 
could  see  that  plainly  enough.  I  gave  up  and  drifted 
down-town,  and  presently  discovered  that  my  feet  were 
keeping  time  to  that  relentless  jingle.  When  I  could 
stand  it  no  longer  I  altered  my  step.  But  it  did  no 
good ;  those  rhymes  accommodated  themselves  to  the 
new  step  and  went  on  harassing  me  just  as  before.  I 
returned  home,  and  suffered  all  the  afternoon;  suffered 
all  through  an  unconscious  and  unrefreshing  dinner; 
suffered,  and  cried,  and  jingled  all  through  the  evening; 
went  to  bed  and  rolled,  tossed,  and  jingled  right  along, 
the  same  as  ever;  got  up  at  midnight  frantic,  and 
tried  to  read ;  but  there  was  nothing  visible  upon  the 
whirling  page  except  "  Punch!  punch  in  the  presence 
of  the  passenjare."  By  sunrise  I  was  out  of  my  mind, 
and  everybody  marveled  and  was  distressed  at  the 
idiotic  burden  of  my  ravings — "Punch!  oh,  punch! 
punch  in  the  presence  of  the  passenjare  !" 

Two  days  later,  on  Saturday  morning,  I  arose,  a  tot 
tering  wreck,  and  went  forth  to  fulfill  an  engagement 

with  a  valued  friend,  the  Rev.  Mr. ,  to  walk  to  the 

Talcott  Tower,  ten   miles   distant.      He   stared  at  me, 

but  asked  no  questions.     We  started.      Mr. talked, 

talked,    talked  —  as    is    his    wont.       I     said     nothing; 

I    heard   nothing.     At   the    end   of   a   mile,    Mr. 

said : 

11  Mark,  are  you  sick?  I  never  saw  a  man  look  so 
haggard  and  worn  and  absent-minded.  Say  some 
thing,  do!  " 

Drearily,  without  enthusiasm,  I  said:  "Punch, 
brothers,  punch  with  care !  Punch  in  the  presence  of 
the  passenjare !" 

My  friend  eyed  me  blankly,  looked  perplexed,  then 
said: 


336  Punch,  Brothers,  Punch 

"  I  do  not  think  I  get  your  drift,  Mark.  There  does 
not  seem  to  be  any  relevancy  in  what  you  have  said, 
certainly  nothing  sad;  and  yet  —  maybe  it  was  the  way 
you  said  the  words  —  I  never  heard  anything  that 
sounded  so  pathetic.  What  is — " 

But  I  heard  no  more.  I  was  already  far  away  with 
my  pitiless,  heart-breaking  "  blue  trip  slip  for  an  eight- 
cent  fare,  buff  trip  slip  for  a  six-cent  fare,  pink  trip 
slip  for  a  three-cent  fare ;  punch  in  the  presence  of  the 
passenjare."  I  do  not  know  what  occurred  during  the 

other  nine  miles.  However,  all  of  a  sudden  Mr. 

laid  his  hand  on  my  shoulder  and  shouted : 

"Oh,  wake  up!  wake  up!  wake  up!  Don't  sleep 
all  day !  Here  we  are  at  the  Tower,  man  !  I  have 
talked  myself  deaf  and  dumb  and  blind,  and  never  got 
a  response.  Just  look  at  this  magnificent  autumn  land 
scape  !  Look  at  it !  look  at  it !  Feast  your  eyes  on  it ! 
You  have  traveled ;  you  have  seen  boasted  landscapes 
elsewhere.  Come,  now,  deliver  an  honest  opinion. 
What  do  you  say  to  this?" 

I  sighed  wearily,  and  murmured : 

"A  buff  trip  slip  for  a  six-cent  fare,  a  pink  trip  slip 
for  a  three-cent  fare,  punch  in  the  presence  of  the 
passenjare." 

Rev.  Mr. stood  there,  very  grave,  full  of  con 
cern,  apparently,  and  looked  long  at  me;  then  he 
said : 

*'  Mark,  there  is  something  about  this  that  I  cannot 
understand.  Those  are  about  the  same  words  you  said 
before;  there  does  not  seem  to  be  anything  in  them, 
and  yet  they  nearly  break  my  heart  when  you  say  them. 
Punch  in  the  —  how  is  it  they  go?" 

I  began  at  the  beginning  and  repeated   all  the  lines. 

My  friend's  face  lighted  with  interest.      He  said: 

l<  Why,  what  a  captivating  jingle  it  is  !  It  is  almost 
music.  It  flows  along  so  nicely.  I  have  nearly  caught 


Punch,  Brothers,  Punch  337 

the  rhymes  myself.  Say  them  over  just  once  more, 
and  then  I'll  have  them,  sure." 

I  said  them  over.     Then  Mr. said   them.     He 

made  one  little  mistake,  which  I  corrected.  The  next 
time  and  the  next  he  got  them  right.  Now  a  great 
burden  seemed  to  tumble  from  my  shoulders.  That 
torturing  jingle  departed  out  of  my  brain,  and  a  grate 
ful  sense  of  rest  and  peace  descended  upon  me.  I  was 
light-hearted  enough  to  sing;  and  I  did  sing  for  half 
an  hour,  straight  along,  as  we  went  jogging  homeward. 
Then  my  freed  tongue  found  blessed  speech  again,  and 
the  pent  talk  of  many  a  weary  hour  began  to  gush  and 
flow.  It  flowed  on  and  on,  joyously,  jubilantly,  until 
the  fountain  was  empty  and  dry.  As  I  wrung  my 
friend's  hand  at  parting,  I  said: 

"  Haven't  we  had  a  royal  good  time!  But  now  I 
remember,  you  haven't  said  a  word  for  two  hours. 
Come,  come,  out  with  something!" 

The   Rev.    Mr. turned   a   lack-lustre  eye  upon 

me,  drew  a  deep  sigh,  and  said,  without  animation, 
without  apparent  consciousness : 

"  Punch,  brothers,  punch  with  care!  Punch  in  the 
presence  of  the  passenjare  !" 

A  pang  shot  through  me  as  I  said  to  myself,  "  Poor 
fellow,  poor  fellow!  he  has  got  it,  now." 

I  did  not  see  Mr. for  two   or  three  days  after 

that.  Then,  on  Tuesday  evening,  he  staggered  into 
my  presence  and  sank  dejectedly  into  a  seat.  He  was 
pale,  worn;  he  was  a  wreck.  He  lifted  his  faded  eyes 
to  my  face  and  said : 

"Ah,  Mark,  it  was  a  ruinous  investment  that  I  made 
in  those  heartless  rhymes.  They  have  ridden  me  like 
a  nightmare,  day  and  night,  hour  after  hour,  to  this 
very  moment.  Since  I  saw  you  I  have  suffered  the 
torments  of  the  lost.  Saturday  evening  I  had  a  sudden 
call,  by  telegraph,  and  took  the  night  train  for  Boston. 
22** 


338  Punch,  Brothers,  Punch 

The  occasion  was  the  death  of  a  valued  old  friend  who 
had  requested  that  I  should  preach  his  funeral  sermon. 
I  took  my  seat  in  the  cars  and  set  myself  to  framing 
the  discourse.  But  I  never  got  beyond  the  opening 
paragraph ;  for  then  the  train  started  and  the  car-wheels 
began  their  'clack,  clack  —  clack-clack-clack!  clack- 
clack  —  clack-clack-clack  ! '  and  right  away  those  odious 
rhymes  fitted  themselves  to  that  accompaniment.  For 
an  hour  I  sat  there  and  set  a  syllable  of  those  rhymes 
to  every  separate  and  distinct  clack  the  car-wheels 
made.  Why,  I  was  as  fagged  out,  then,  as  if  I  had 
been  chopping  wood  all  day.  My  skull  was  splitting 
with  headache.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  must  go  mad 
if  I  sat  there  any  longer ;  so  I  undressed  and  went  to 
bed.  I  stretched  myself  out  in  my  berth,  and  —  well, 
you  know  what  the  result  was.  The  thing  went  right 
along,  just  the  same.  '  Clack-clack-clack,  a  blue  trip 
slip,  clack-clack-clack,  for  an  eight-cent  fare;  clack- 
clack-clack,  a  buff  trip  slip,  clack-clack-clack,  for  a  six- 
cent  fare,  and  so  on,  and  so  on,  and  so  on — punch  in 
the  presence  of  the  passenjare  !'  Sleep?  Not  a  single 
wink!  I  was  almost  a  lunatic  when  I  got  to  Boston. 
Don't  ask  me  about  the  funeral.  I  did  the  best  I  could, 
but  every  solemn  individual  sentence  was  meshed  and 
tangled  and  woven  in  and  out  with  '  Punch,  brothers, 
punch  with  care,  punch  in  the  presence  of  the  passen 
jare.'  And  the  most  distressing  thing  was  that  my 
delivery  dropped  into  the  undulating  rhythm  of  those 
pulsing  rhymes,  and  I  could  actually  catch  absent- 
minded  people  nodding  time  to  the  swing  of  it 
with  their  stupid  heads.  And,  Mark,  you  may  be 
lieve  it  or  not,  but  before  I  got  through,  the  entire 
assemblage  were  placidly  bobbing  their  heads  in  solemn 
unison,  mourners,  undertaker,  and  all.  The  moment  I 
had  finished,  I  fled  to  the  anteroom  in  a  state  bordering 
on  frenzy.  Of  course  it  would  be  my  luck  to  find  a 


Punch,  Brothers,  Punch  339 

sorrowing  and  aged  maiden  aunt  of  the  deceased  there, 
who  had  arrived  from  Springfield  too  late  to  get  into 
the  church.  She  began  to  sob,  and  said: 

*  'Oh,  oh,  he  is  gone,  he  is  gone,  and   I  didn't  see 
him  before  he  died  !' 

'Yes !'  I  said,  '  he  is  gone,  he  is  gone,  he  is  gone 
• —  oh,  will  this  suffering  never  cease  !' 

'  You  loved  him,  then  !     Oh,  you  too  loved  him  !' 
1  Loved  him  !     Loved  who?  ' 
4  Why,  my  poor  George  !   my  poor  nephew  !' 
"'Oh  —  him!     Yes  —  oh,   yes,   yes.      Certainly  — 
certainly.      Punch  —  punch  —  oh,  this  misery  will  kill 
me!' 

4  Bless  you  !  bless  you,  sir,  for  these  sweet  words  ! 
/,  too,  suffer  in  this  dear  loss.  Were  you  present 
during  his  last  moments?' 

'  Yes.     I  —  whose  last  moments?' 
"  4  His.     The  dear  departed's.' 

"'Yes!  Oh,  yes  —  yes — yes!  I  suppose  so,  I 
think  so,  /  don't  know!  Oh,  certainly — I  was  there 
—  /  was  there  ! ' 

'  Oh,  what  a  privilege!  what  a  precious  privilege! 
And  his  last  words  —  oh,  tell  me,  tell  me  his  last  words  ! 
What  did  he  say?' 

:'  '  He  said  —  he  said  —  oh,  my  head,  my  head,  my 
head!  He  said-— he  said  —  he  never  said  anything 
but  Punch,  punch,  punch  in  the  presence  of  the 
passenjare  !  Oh,  leave  me,  madam  !  In  the  name  of 
all  that  is  generous,  leave  me  to  my  madness,  my 
misery,  my  despair ! —  a  buff  trip  slip  for  a  six-cent 
fare,  a  pink  trip  slip  for  a  three-cent  fare  —  endu-rance 
can  no  fur-ther  go  ! —  PUNCH  in  the  presence  of  the 
passenjare !'  ' 

My  friend's  hopeless  eyes  rested  upon  mine  a  preg 
nant  minute,  and  then  he  said  impressively: 

"  Mark,  you  do  not  say  anything.     You  do  not  offer 


340  Punch,  Brothers,  Punch 

me  any  hope.  But,  ah  me,  it  is  just  as  well  —  it  is  just 
as  well.  You  could  not  do  me  any  good.  The  time 
has  long  gone  by  when  words  could  comfort  me. 
Something  tells  me  that  my  tongue  is  doomed  to  wag 
forever  to  the  jigger  of  that  remorseless  jingle.  There 
—  there  it  is  coming  on  me  again :  a  blue  trip  slip  for 
an  eight-cent  fare,  a  buff  trip  slip  for  a — " 

Thus  murmuring  faint  and  fainter,  my  friend  sank 
into  a  peaceful  trance  and  forgot  his  sufferings  in  a 
blessed  respite. 

How  did  I  finally  save  him  from  an  asylum?  I  took 
him  to  a  neighboring  university  and  made  him  discharge 
the  burden  of  his  persecuting  rhymes  into  the  eager 
ears  of  the  poor,  unthinking  students.  How  is  it  with 
them,  now?  The  result  is  too  sad  to  tell.  Why  did  I 
write  this  article?  It  was  for  a  worthy,  even  a  noble, 
purpose.  It  was  to  warn  you,  reader,  if  you  should 
come  across  those  merciless  rhymes,  to  avoid  them  — 
avoid  them  as  you  would  a  pestilence ! 


THE  GREAT  REVOLUTION    IN    PITCAIRN 


LET  me  refresh  the  reader's  memory  a  little.  Nearly 
a  hundred  years  ago  the  crew  of  the  British  ship 
Bounty  mutinied,  set  the  captain  and  his  officers  adrift 
upon  the  open  sea,  took  possession  of  the  ship,  and 
sailed  southward.  They  procured  wives  for  themselves 
among  the  natives  of  Tahiti,  then  proceeded  to  a  lonely 
little  rock  in  mid-Pacific,  called  Pitcairn's  Island, 
wrecked  the  vessel,  stripped  her  of  everything  that 
might  be  useful  to  a  new  colony,  and  established  them 
selves  on  shore. 

Pitcairn's  is  so  far  removed  from  the  track  of  com 
merce  that  it  was  many  years  before  another  vessel 
touched  there.  It  had  always  been  considered  an  un 
inhabited  island ;  so  when  a  ship  did  at  last  drop  its 
anchor  there,  in  1808,  the  captain  was  greatly  surprised 
to  find  the  place  peopled.  Although  the  mutineers 
had  fought  among  themselves,  and  gradually  killed 
each  other  off  until  only  two  or  three  of  the  original 
stock  remained,  these  tragedies  had  not  occurred  be 
fore  a  number  of  children  had  been  born;  so  in  1808 
the  island  had  a  population  of  twenty-seven  persons. 
John  Adams,  the  chief  mutineer,  still  survived,  and 
was  to  live  many  years  yet,  as  governor  and  patriarch 
of  the  flock.  From  being  mutineer  and  homicide,  he 
had  turned  Christian  and  teacher,  and  his  nation  of 

(34i) 


342  The  Great  Revolution  in  Pitcairn 

twenty-seven  persons  was  now  the  purest  and  devoutest 
in  Christendom.  Adams  had  long  ago  hoisted  the 
British  flag  and  constituted  his  island  an  appanage  of 
the  British  crown. 

To-day  the  population  numbers  ninety  persons  — 
sixteen  men,  nineteen  women,  twenty-five  boys,  and 
thirty  girls  —  all  descendants  of  the  mutineers,  all 
bearing  the  family  names  of  those  mutineers,  and  all 
speaking  English,  and  English  only.  The  island  stands 
high  up  out  of  the  sea,  and  has  precipitous  walls.  It 
is  about  three-quarters  of  a  mile  long,  and  in  places  is 
as  much  as  half  a  mile  wide.  Such  arable  land  as  it 
affords  is  held  by  the  several  families,  according  to  a 
division  made  many  years  ago.  There  is  some  live 
stock —  goats,  pigs,  chickens,  and  cats;  but  no  dogs, 
and  no  large  animals.  There  is  one  church  building- — 
used  also  as  a  capitol,  a  schoolhouse,  and  a  public 
library.  The  title  of  the  governor  has  been,  for  a 
generation  or  two,  "  Magistrate  and  Chief  Ruler,  in 
subordination  to  her  Majesty  the  Queen  of  Great 
Britain."  It  was  his  province  to  make  the  laws,  as 
well  as  execute  them.  His  office  was  elective;  every 
body  over  seventeen  years  old  had  a  vote  —  no  matter 
about  the  sex. 

The  sole  occupations  of  the  people  were  farming  and 
fishing;  their  sole  recreation,  religious  services.  There 
has  never  been  a  shop  in  the  island,  nor  any  money. 
The  habits  and  dress  of  the  people  have  always  been 
primitive,  and  their  laws  simple  to  puerility.  They 
have  lived  in  a  deep  Sabbath  tranquillity,  far  from  the 
world  and  its  ambitions  and  vexations,  and  neither 
knowing  nor  caring  what  was  going  on  in  the  mighty 
empires  that  lie  beyond  their  limitless  ocean  solitudes. 
Once  in  three  or  four  years  a  ship  touched  there, 
moved  them  with  aged  news  of  bloody  battles,  devas 
tating  epidemics,  fallen  thrones,  and  ruined  dynasties, 


The  Great  Revolution  in  Pitcairn  343 

then  traded  them  some  soap  and  flannel  for  some  yams 
and  breadfruit,  and  sailed  away,  leaving  them  to  retire 
into  their  peaceful  dreams  and  pious  dissipations  once 
more. 

On  the  8th  of  last  September,  Admiral  de  Horsey, 
commander-in-chief  of  the  British  fleet  in  the  Pacific, 
visited  Pitcairn' s  Island,  and  speaks  as  follows  in  his 
official  report  to  the  admiralty : 

They  have  beans,  carrots,  turnips,  cabbages,  and  a  little  maize;  pine 
apples,  fig-trees,  custard-apples,  and  oranges;  lemons,  and  cocoa-nuts. 
Clothing  is  obtained  alone  from  passing  ships,  in  barter  for  refreshments. 
There  are  no  springs  on  the  island,  but  as  it  rains  generally  once  a  month 
they  have  plenty  of  water,  although  at  times,  in  former  years,  they  have 
suffered  from  drought.  No  alcoholic  liquors,  except  for  medicinal  pur 
poses,  are  used,  and  a  drunkard  is  unknown.  .  .  . 

The  necessary  articles  required  by  the  islanders  are  best  shown  by  those 
we  furnished  in  barter  for  refreshments :  namely,  flannel,  serge,  drill,  half- 
boots,  combs,  tobacco,  and  soap.  They  also  stand  much  in  need  of  maps 
and  slates  for  their  school,  and  tools  of  any  kind  are  most  acceptable.  I 
caused  them  to  be  supplied  from  the  public  stores  with  a  union-jack  for 
display  on  the  arrival  of  ships,  and  a  pit-saw,  of  which  they  were  greatly  in 
need.  This,  I  trust,  will  meet  the  approval  of  their  lordships.  If  the 
munificent  people  of  England  were  only  aware  of  the  wants  of  this  most 
deserving  little  colony,  they  would  not  long  go  unsupplied.  .  .  . 

Divine  service  is  held  every  Sunday  at  10.30  A.M.  and  at  3  P.M.,  in  the 
house  built  and  used  by  John  Adams  for  that  purpose  until  he  died  in  1829. 
It  is  conducted  strictly  in  accordance  with  the  liturgy  of  the  Church  of 
England,  by  Mr.  Simon  Young,  their  selected  pastor,  who  is  much  re 
spected.  A  Bible  class  is  held  every  Wednesday,  when  all  who  conven 
iently  can  attend.  There  is  also  a  general  meeting  for  prayer  on  the  first 
Friday  in  every  month.  Family  prayers  are  said  in  every  house  the  first 
thing  in  the  morning  and  the  last  thing  in  the  evening,  and  no  food  is  par 
taken  of  without  asking  God's  blessing  before  and  afterwards.  Of  these 
islanders'  religious  attributes  no  one  can  speak  without  deep  respect.  A 
people  whose  greatest  pleasure  and  privilege  is  to  commune  in  prayer  with 
their  God,  and  to  join  in  hymns  of  praise,  and  who  are,  moreover,  cheerful, 
diligent,  and  probably  freer  from  vice  than  any  other  community,  need  no 
priest  among  them. 


344  The  Great  Revolution  in  Pitcairn 

Now  I  come  to  a  sentence  in  the  admiral's  report 
which  he  dropped  carelessly  from  his  pen,  no  doubt, 
and  never  gave  the  matter  a  second  thought.  He  little 
imagined  what  a  freight  of  tragic  prophecy  it  bore ! 
This  is  the  sentence : 

One  stranger,  an  American,  has  settled  on  the  island  —  a  doubtful 
acquisition. 

A  doubtful  acquisition,  indeed !  Captain  Ormsby, 
in  the  American  ship  Hornet,  touched  at  Pitcairn's 
nearly  four  months  after  the  admiral's  visit,  and  from 
the  facts  which  he  gathered  there  we  now  know  all 
about  that  American.  Let  us  put  these  facts  together 
in  historical  form.  The  American's  name  was  Butter- 
worth  Stavely.  As  soon  as  he  had  become  well  ac 
quainted  with  all  the  people  —  and  this  took  but  a  few 
days,  of  course  —  he  began  to  ingratiate  himself  with 
them  by  all  the  arts  he  could  command.  He  became 
exceedingly  popular,  and  much  looked  up  to ;  for  one 
of  the  first  things  he  did  was  to  forsake  his  worldly  way 
of  life,  and  throw  all  his  energies  into  religion.  He  was 
always  reading  his  Bible,  or  praying,  or  singing  hymns, 
or  asking  blessings.  In  prayer,  no  one  had  such 
"  liberty  "  as  he,  no  one  could  pray  so  long  or  so  well. 

At  last,  when  he  considered  the  time  to  be  ripe,  he 
began  secretly  to  sow  the  seeds  of  discontent  among 
the  people.  It  was  his  deliberate  purpose,  from  the 
beginning,  to  subvert  the  government,  but  of  course  he 
kept  that  to  himself  for  a  time.  He  used  different  arts 
with  different  individuals.  He  awakened  dissatisfaction 
in  one  quarter  by  calling  attention  to  the  shortness  of 
the  Sunday  services ;  he  argued  that  there  should  be 
three  three-hour  services  on  Sunday  instead  of  only 
two.  Many  had  secretly  held  this  opinion  before; 
they  now  privately  banded  themselves  into  a  party  to 
work  for  it.  He  showed  certain  of  the  women  that 


The  Great  Revolution  in  Pitcairn  345 

they  were  not  allowed  sufficient  voice  in  the  prayer- 
meetings;  thus  another  party  was  formed.  No  weapon 
was  beneath  his  notice ;  he  even  descended  to  the  chil 
dren,  and  awoke  discontent  in  their  breasts  because  — 
as  he  discovered  for  them  —  they  had  not  enough 
Sunday-school.  This  created  a  third  party. 

Now,  as  the  chief  of  these  parties,  he  found  himself 
the  strongest  power  in  the  community.  So  he  pro 
ceeded  to  his  next  move  —  a  no  less  important  one 
than  the  impeachment  of  the  chief  magistrate,  James 
Russell  Nickoy;  a  man  of  character  and  ability,  and 
possessed  of  great  wealth,  he  being  the  owner  of  a 
house  with  a  parlor  to  it,  three  acres  and  a  half  of  yam 
land,  and  the  only  boat  in  Pitcairn's,  a  whale-boat; 
and,  most  unfortunately,  a  pretext  for  this  impeach 
ment  offered  itself  at  just  the  right  time.  One  of  the 
earliest  and  most  precious  laws  of  the  island  was  the 
law  against  trespass.  It  was  held  in  great  reverence, 
and  was  regarded  as  the  palladium  of  the  people's 
liberties.  About  thirty  years  ago  an  important  case 
came  before  the  courts  under  this  law,  in  this  wise :  a 
chicken  belonging  to  Elizabeth  Young  (aged,  at  that 
time,  fifty-eight,  a  daughter  of  John  Mills,  one  of  the 
mutineers  of  the  Bounty)  trespassed  upon  the  grounds 
of  Thursday  October  Christian  (aged  twenty-nine,  a 
grandson  of  Fletcher  Christian,  one  of  the  mutineers). 
Christian  killed  the  chicken.  According  to  the  law, 
•Christian  could  keep  the  chicken;  or,  if  he  preferred, 
he  could  restore  its  remains  to  the  owner,  and  receive 
damages  in  "produce"  to  an  amount  equivalent  to 
the  waste  and  injury  wrought  by  the  trespasser.  The 
court  records  set  forth  that  "  the  said  Christian  afore 
said  did  deliver  the  aforesaid  remains  to  the  said  Eliza 
beth  Young,  and  did  demand  one  bushel  of  yams  in 
satisfaction  of  the  damage  done."  But  Elizabeth 
Young  considered  the  demand  exorbitant ;  the  parties 


346  The  Great  Revolution  in  Pitcairn 

could  not  agree;  therefore  Christian  brought  suit  in 
the  courts.  He  lost  his  case  in  the  justice's  court;  at 
least,  he  was  awarded  only  a  half  peck  of  yams,  which 
he  considered  insufficient,  and  in  the  nature  of  a 
defeat.  He  appealed.  The  case  lingered  several  years 
in  an  ascending  grade  of  courts,  and  always  resulted  in 
decrees  sustaining  the  original  verdict;  and  finally  the 
thing  got  into  the  supreme  court,  and  there  it  stuck  for 
twenty  years.  But  last  summer,  even  the  supreme 
court  managed  to  arrive  at  a  decision  at  last.  Once 
more  the  original  verdict  was  sustained.  Christian  then 
said  he  was  satisfied;  but  Stavely  was  present,  and 
whispered  to  him  and  to  his  lawyer,  suggesting,  "  as  a 
mere  form,"  that  the  original  law  be  exhibited,  in 
order  to  make  sure  that  it  still  existed.  It  seemed  an 
odd  idea,  but  an  ingenious  one.  So  the  demand  was 
made.  A  messenger  was  sent  to  the  magistrate's 
house;  he  presently  returned  with  the  tidings  that  it 
had  disappeared  from  among  the  state  archives. 

The  court  now  pronounced  its  late  decision  void, 
since  it  had  been  made  under  a  law  which  had  no  actual 
existence. 

Great  excitement  ensued  immediately.  The  news 
swept  abroad  over  the  whole  island  that  the  palladium 
of  the  public  liberties  was  lost  —  maybe  treasonably 
destroyed.  Within  thirty  minutes  almost  the  entire 
nation  were  in  the  courtroom — that  is  to  say,  the 
church.  The  impeachment  of  the  chief  magistrate 
followed,  upon  Stavely 's  motion.  The  accused  met 
his  misfortune  with  the  dignity  which  became  his  great 
office.  He  did  not  plead,  or  even  argue;  he  offered 
the  simple  defense  that  he  had  not  meddled  with  the 
missing  law ;  that  he  had  kept  the  state  archives  in  the 
same  candle-box  that  had  been  used  as  their  depository 
from  the  beginning;  and  that  he  was  innocent  of  the 
removal  or  destruction  of  the  lost  document. 


The  Great  Revolution  in  Pitcairn  347 

But  nothing  could  save  him ;  he  was  found  guilty  of 
misprision  of  treason,  and  degraded  from  his  office,  and 
all  his  property  was  confiscated. 

The  lamest  part  of  the  whole  shameful  matter  was 
the  reason  suggested  by  his  enemies  for  his  destruction 
of  the  law,  to  wit:  that  he  did  it  to  favor  Christian, 
because  Christian  was  his  cousin !  Whereas  Stavely 
was  the  only  individual  in  the  entire  nation  who  was 
not  his  cousin.  The  reader  must  remember  that  all 
these  people  are  the  descendants  of  half  a  dozen  men ; 
that  the  first  children  intermarried  together  and  bore 
grandchildren  to  the  mutineers;  that  these  grand 
children  intermarried;  after  them,  great  and  great- 
great-grandchildren  intermarried  ;  so  that  to-day  every 
body  is  blood  kin  to  everybody.  Moreover,  the  rela 
tionships  are  wonderfully,  even  astoundingly,  mixed 
up  and  complicated.  A  stranger,  for  instance,  says  to 
an  islander : 

*  You  speak  of  that  young  woman  as  your  cousin ; 
a  while  ago  you  called  her  your  aunt." 

'Well,  she  is  my  aunt,  and  my  cousin,  too.  And 
also  my  step-sister,  my  niece,  my  fourth  cousin,  my 
thirty-third  cousin,  my  forty-second  cousin,  my  great- 
aunt,  my  grandmother;  my  widowed  sister-in-law  — 
and  next  week  she  will  be  my  wife." 

So  the  charge  of  nepotism  against  the  chief  magis 
trate  was  weak.  But  no  matter;  weak  or  strong,  it 
suited  Stavely.  Stavely  was  immediately  elected  to  the 
vacant  magistracy,  and,  oozing  reform  from  every 
pore,  he  went  vigorously  to  work.  In  no  long  time 
religious  services  raged  everywhere  and  unceasingly. 
By  command,  the  second  prayer  of  the  Sunday  morn 
ing  service,  which  had  customarily  endured  some  thirty- 
five  or  forty  minutes,  and  had  pleaded  for  the  world, 
first  by  continent  and  then  by  national  and  tribal  detail, 
was  extended  to  an  hour  and  a  half,  and  made  to  in- 


348  The  Great  Revolution  in  Pitcairn 

elude  supplications  in  behalf  of  the  possible  peoples  in 
the  several  planets.  Everybody  was  pleased  with  this; 
everybody  said,  "Now  this  is  something  like."  By 
command,  the  usual  three-hour  sermons  were  doubled 
in  length.  The  nation  came  in  a  body  to  testify  their 
gratitude  to  the  new  magistrate.  The  old  law  for 
bidding  cooking  on  the  Sabbath  was  extended  to  the 
prohibition  of  eating,  also.  By  command,  Sunday- 
school  was  privileged  to  spread  over  into  the  week. 
The  joy  of  all  classes  was  complete.  In  one  short 
month  the  new  magistrate  had  become  the  people's 
idol! 

The  time  was  ripe  for  this  man's  next  move.  He 
began,  cautiously  at  first,  to  poison  the  public  mind 
against  England.  He  took  the  chief  citizens  aside, 
one  by  one,  and  conversed  with  them  on  this  topic. 
Presently  he  grew  bolder,  and  spoke  out.  He  said  the 
nation  owed  it  to  itself,  to  its  honor,  to  its  great  tradi 
tions,  to  rise  in  its  might  and  throw  off  "  this  galling 
English  yoke." 

But  the  simple  islanders  answered : 

"We  had  not  noticed  that  it  galled.  How  does  it 
gall?  England  sends  a  ship  once  in  three  or  four  years 
to  give  us  soap  and  clothing,  and  things  which  we 
sorely  need  and  gratefully  receive ;  but  she  never 
troubles  us;  she  lets  us  go  our  own  way." 

"  She  lets  you  go  your  own  way!  So  slaves  have 
felt  and  spoken  in  all  the  ages !  This  speech  shows 
how  fallen  you  are,  how  base,  how  brutalized  you 
have  become,  under  this  grinding  tyranny !  What ! 
has  all  manly  pride  forsaken  you?  Is  liberty  nothing? 
Are  you  content  to  be  a  mere  appendage  to  a  foreign 
and  hateful  sovereignty,  when  you  might  rise  up  and 
take  your  rightful  place  in  the  august  family  of  nations, 
great,  free,  enlightened,  independent,  the  minion  of  no 
sceptered  master,  but  the  arbiter  of  your  own  destiny, 


The  Great  Revolution  in  Pitcairn  349 

and  a  voice  and   a  power  in  decreeing  the  destinies  of 
your  sister-sovereignties  of  the  world?" 

Speeches  like  this  produced  an  effect  by  and  by. 
Citizens  began  to  feel  the  English  yoke ;  they  did  not 
know  exactly  how  or  whereabouts  they  felt  it,  but  they 
were  perfectly  certain  they  did  feel  it.  They  got  to 
grumbling  a  good  deal,  and  chafing  under  their  chains, 
and  .longing  for  relief  and  release.  They  presently  fell 
to  hating  the  English  flag,  that  sign  and  symbol  of  their 
nation's  degradation;  they  ceased  to  glance  up  at  it  as 
they  passed  the  capitol,  but  averted  their  eyes  and 
grated  their  teeth;  and  one  morning,  when  it  was 
found  trampled  into  the  mud  at  the  foot  of  the  staff, 
they  left  it  there,  and  no  man  put  his  hand  to  it  to 
hoist  it  again.  A  certain  thing  which  was  sure  to  hap 
pen  sooner  or  later  happened  now.  Some  of  the  chief 
citizens  went  to  the  magistrate  by  night,  and  said : 

"  We  can  endure  this  hated  tyranny  no  longer.  How 
can  we  cast  it  off?" 

"  By  a  coup  d'etat." 

"How?" 

"A  coup  d'etat.  It  is  like  this:  everything  is  got 
ready,  and  at  the  appointed  moment  I,  as  the  official 
head  of  the  nation,  publicly  and  solemnly  proclaim  its 
independence,  and  absolve  it  from  allegiance  to  any 
and  all  other  powers  whatsoever." 

'That  sounds  simple  and  easy.     We  can  do    that 
right  away.     Then  what  will  be  the  next  thing  to  do?" 

11  Seize  all  the  defenses  and  public  properties  of  all 
kinds,  establish  martial  law,  put  the  army  and  navy  on 
a  war  footing,  and  proclaim  the  empire!" 

This  fine  program  dazzled  these  innocents.  They 
said : 

'  This  is  grand  —  this  is  splendid  ;   but  will  not  Eng 
land  resist?" 

"  Let  her.     This  rock  is  a  Gibraltar." 


350  The  Great  Revolution  in  Pitcairn 

"True.  But  about  the  empire?  Do  we  need  an 
empire  and  an  emperor?" 

"  What  you  needy  my  friends,  is  unification.  Look 
at  Germany;  look  at  Italy.  They  are  unified.  Unifi 
cation  is  the  thing.  It  makes  living  dear.  That  con 
stitutes  progress.  We  must  have  a  standing  army,  and 
a  navy.  Taxes  follow,  as  a  matter  of  course.  All 
these  things  summed  up  make  grandeur.  With  unifica 
tion  and  grandeur,  what  more  can  you  want?  Very 
well  —  only  the  empire  can  confer  these  boons." 

So  on  the  8th  day  of  December  Pitcairn' s  Island  was 
proclaimed  a  free  and  independent  nation ;  and  on  the 
same  day  the  solemn  coronation  of  Butterworth  I., 
emperor  of  Pitcairn's  Island,  took  place,  amid  great  re 
joicings  and  festivities.  The  entire  nation,  with  the  ex 
ception  of  fourteen  persons,  mainly  little  children, 
marched  past  the  throne  in  single  file,  with  banners  and 
music,  the  procession  being  upwards  of  ninety  feet 
long;  and  some  said  it  was  as  much  as  three-quarters 
of  a  minute  passing  a  given  point.  Nothing  like  it  had 
ever  been  seen  in  the  history  of  the  island  before. 
Public  enthusiasm  was  measureless. 

Now  straightway  imperial  reforms  began.  Orders  of 
nobility  were  instituted.  A  minister  of  the  navy  was 
appointed,  and  the  whale-boat  put  in  commission.  A 
minister  of  war  was  created,  and  ordered  to  proceed  at 
once  with  the  formation  of  a  standing  army.  A  first 
lord  of  the  treasury  was  named,  and  commanded  to  get 
up  a  taxation  scheme,  and  also  open  negotiations  for 
treaties,  offensive,  defensive,  and  commercial,  with  for 
eign  powers.  Some  generals  and  admirals  were  ap 
pointed;  also  some  chamberlains,  some  equerries  in 
waiting,  and  some  lords  of  the  bedchamber. 

At  this  point  all  the  material  was  used  up.  The 
Grand  Duke  of  Galilee,  minister  of  war,  complained 
that  all  the  sixteen  grown  men  in  the  empire  had  been 


The  Great  Revolution  in  Pitcairn  351 

given  great  offices,  and  consequently  would  not  consent 
to  serve  in  the  ranks ;  wherefore  his  standing  army  was 
at  a  standstill.  The  Marquis  of  Ararat,  minister  of  the 
navy,  made  a  similar  complaint.  He  said  he  was  will 
ing  to  steer  the  whale-boat  himself,  but  he  must  have 
somebody  to  man  her. 

The  emperor  did  the  best  he  could  in  the  circum 
stances  :  he  took  all  the  boys  above  the  age  of  ten  years 
away  from  their  mothers,  and  pressed  them  into  the 
army,  thus  constructing  a  corps  of  seventeen  privates, 
officered  by  one  lieutenant-general  and  two  major-gen 
erals.  This  pleased  the  minister  of  war,  but  procured 
the  enmity  of  all  the  mothers  in  the  land ;  for  they  said 
their  precious  ones  must  now  find  bloody  graves  in  the 
fields  of  war,  and  he  would  be  answerable  for  it.  Some 
of  the  more  heartbroken  and  unappeasable  among 
them  lay  constantly  in  wait  for  the  emperor  and  threw 
yams  at  him,  unmindful  of  the  bodyguard. 

On  account  of  the  extreme  scarcity  of  material,  it 
was  found  necessary  to  require  the  Duke  of  Bethany, 
postmaster-general,  to  pull  stroke-oar  in  the  navy,  and 
thus  sit  in  the  rear  of  a  noble  of  lower  degree,  namely, 
Viscount  Canaan,  lord  justice  of  the  common  pleas. 
This  turned  the  Duke  of  Bethany  into  a  tolerably  open 
malcontent  and  a  secret  conspirator  —  a  thing  which 
the  emperor  foresaw,  but  could  not  help. 

Things  went  from  bad  to  worse.  The  emperor  raised 
Nancy  Peters  to  the  peerage  on  one  day,  and  married 
her  the  next,  notwithstanding,  for  reasons  of  state,  the 
cabinet  had  strenuously  advised  him  to  marry  Emme- 
line,  eldest  daughter  of  the  Archbishop  of  Bethlehem. 
This  caused  trouble  in  a  powerful  quarter  —  the  church. 
The  new  empress  secured  the  support  and  friendship  of 
two-thirds  of  the  thirty-six  grown  women  in  the  nation 
by  absorbing  them  into  her  court  as  maids  of  honor; 
but  this  made  deadly  enemies  of  the  remaining  twelve. 

23 


352  The  Great  Revolution  in  Pitcairn 

The  families  of  the  maids  of  honor  soon  began  to  rebel, 
because  there  was  nobody  at  home  to  keep  house. 
The  twelve  snubbed  women  refused  to  enter  the  im 
perial  kitchen  as  servants ;  so  the  empress  had  to  require 
the  Countess  of  Jericho  and  other  great  court  dames  to 
fetch  water,  sweep  the  palace,  and  perform  other  menial 
and  equally  distasteful  services.  This  made  bad  blood 
in  that  department. 

Everybody  fell  to  complaining  that  the  taxes  levied 
for  the  support  of  the  army,  the  navy,  and  the  rest  of 
the  imperial  establishment  were  intolerably  burdensome, 
and  were  reducing  the  nation  to  beggary.  The  em 
peror's  reply — "  Look  at  Germany ;  look  at  Italy.  Are 
you  better  than  they?  and  haven't  you  unification?" — 
did  not  satisfy  them.  They  said,  "  People  can't  eat 
unification,  and  we  are  starving.  Agriculture  has 
ceased.  Everybody  is  in  the  army,  everybody  is  in  the 
navy,  everybody  is  in  the  public  service,  standing 
around  in  a  uniform,  with  nothing  whatever  to  do, 
nothing  to  eat,  and  nobody  to  till  the  fields — " 

"  Look  at  Germany;  look  at  Italy.  It  is  the  same 
there.  Such  is  unification,  and  there's  no  other  way 
to  get  it —  no  other  way  to  keep  it  after  you've  got  it," 
said  the  poor  emperor  always. 

But  the  grumblers  only  replied,  "  We  can't  stand  the 
taxes  —  we  can't  stand  them. ' ' 

Now  right  on  top  of  this  the  cabinet  reported  a 
national  debt  amounting  to  upwards  of  forty-five  dol 
lars —  half  a  dollar  to  every  individual  in  the  nation. 
And  they  proposed  to  fund  something.  They  had 
heard  that  this  was  always  done  in  such  emergencies. 
They  proposed  duties  on  exports;  also  on  imports. 
And  they  wanted  to  issue  bonds ;  also  paper  money, 
redeemable  in  yams  and  cabbages  in  fifty  years.  They 
said  the  pay  of  the  army  and  of  the  navy  and  of  the 
whole  governmental  machine  was  far  in  arrears,  and 


The  Great  Revolution  in  Pitcairn  353 

unless  something  was  done,  and  done  immediately, 
national  bankruptcy  must  ensue,  and  possibly  insurrec 
tion  and  revolution.  The  emperor  at  once  resolved 
upon  a  high-handed  measure,  and  one  of  a  nature  never 
before  heard  of  in  Pitcairn's  Island.  He  went  in  state 
to  the  church  on  Sunday  morning,  with  the  army  at  his 
back,  and  commanded  the  minister  of  the  treasury  to 
take  up  a  collection. 

That  was  the  feather  that  broke  the  camel's  back. 
First  one  citizen,  and  then  another,  rose  and  refused 
to  submit  to  this  unheard-of  outrage  —  and  each  refusal 
was  followed  by  the  immediate  confiscation  of  the 
malcontent's  property.  This  vigor  soon  stopped  the 
refusals,  and  the  collection  proceeded  amid  a  sullen  and 
ominous  silence.  As  the  emperor  withdrew  with  the 
troops,  he  said,  "  I  will  teach  you  who  is  master  here." 
Several  persons  shouted,  "Down  with  unification!" 
They  were  at  once  arrested  and  torn  from  the  arms  of 
their  weeping  friends  by  the  soldiery. 

But  in  the  meantime,  as  any  prophet  might  have  fore 
seen,  a  Social  Democrat  had  been  developed.  As  the 
emperor  stepped  into  the  gilded  imperial  wheelbarrow 
at  the  church  door,  the  social  democrat  stabbed  at  him 
fifteen  or  sixteen  times  with  a  harpoon,  but  fortunately 
with  such  a  peculiarly  social  democratic  unprecision  of 
aim  as  to  do  no  damage. 

That  very  night  the  convulsion  came.  The  nation 
rose  as  one  man  —  though  forty-nine  of  the  revolu 
tionists  were  of  the  other  sex,  The  infantry  threw 
down  their  pitchforks;  the  artillery  cast  aside  their 
cocoanuts ;  the  navy  revolted;  the  emperor  was  seized, 
and  bound  hand  and  foot  in  his  palace.  He  was  very 
much  depressed.  He  said: 

"  I  freed  you  from  a  grinding  tyranny;  I  lifted  you 
up  out  of  your  degradation,  and  made  you  a  nation 
among  nations ;  I  gave  you  a  strong,  compact,  cen- 
23** 


354  The  Great  Revolution  in  Pitcairn 

tralized  government;  and,  more  than  all,  I  gave  you 
the  blessing  of  blessings, —  unification.  I  have  done  all 
this,  and  my  reward  is  hatred,  insult,  and  these  bonds. 
Take  me;  do  with  me  as  you  will.  I  here  resign  my 
crown  and  all  my  dignities,  and  gladly  do  I  release  my 
self  from  their  too  heavy  burden.  For  your  sake  I  took 
them  up;  for  your  sake  I  lay  them  down.  The  im 
perial  jewel  is  no  more ;  now  bruise  and  defile  as  ye  will 
the  useless  setting." 

By  a  unanimous  voice  the  people  condemned  the  ex- 
emperor  and  the  social  democrat  to  perpetual  banish 
ment  from  church  services,  or  to  perpetual  labor  as 
galley-slaves  in  the  whale-boat  —  whichever  they  might 
prefer.  The  next  day  the  nation  assembled  again,  and 
rehoisted  the  British  flag,  reinstated  the  British  tyranny, 
reduced  the  nobility  to  the  condition  of  commoners 
again,  and  then  straightway  turned  their  diligent  atten 
tion  to  the  weeding  of  the  ruined  and  neglected  yam 
patches,  and  the  rehabilitation  of  the  old  useful  indus 
tries  and  the  old  healing  and  solacing  pieties.  The  ex- 
emperor  restored  the  lost  trespass  law,  and  explained 
that  he  had  stolen  it  —  not  to  injure  any  one,  but  to 
further  his  political  projects.  Therefore  the  nation  gave 
the  late  chief  magistrate  his  office  again,  and  also  his 
alienated  property. 

Upon  reflection,  the  ex-emperor  and  the  social  demo 
crat  chose  perpetual  banishment  from  religious  services 
in  preference  to  perpetual  labor  as  galley-slaves  '  *  with 
perpetual  religious  services,"  as  they  phrased  it; 
wherefore  the  people  believed  that  the  poor  fellows' 
troubles  had  unseated  their  reason,  and  so  they  judged 
it  best  to  confine  them  for  the  present.  Which  they 
did. 

Such  is  the  history  of  Pitcairn's  "doubtful  acquisi 
tion." 


ON  THE  DECAY  OF  THE  ART  OF 
LYING 


ESSAY,  FOR  DISCUSSION,  READ  AT  A  MEETING  OF  THE  HIS. 
TORICAL  AND  ANTIQUARIAN  CLUB  OF  HARTFORD,  AND  OF- 
FERED  FOR  THE  THIRTY  DOLLAR  PRIZE.  NOW  FIRST 
PUBLISHED.* 


OBSERVE,  I  do  not  mean  to  suggest  that  the  custom 
of  lying  has  suffered  any  decay  or  interruption  — 
no,  for  the  Lie,  as  a  Virtue,  a  Principle,  is  eternal;  the 
Lie,  as  a  recreation,  a  solace,  a  refuge  in  time  of  need, 
the  fourth  Grace,  the  tenth  Muse,  man's  best  and  surest 
friend,  is  immortal,  and  cannot  perish  from  the  earth 
while  this  Club  remains.  My  complaint  simply  con 
cerns  the  decay  of  the  art  of  lying.  No  high-minded 
man,  no  man  of  right  feeling,  can  contemplate  the 
lumbering  and  slovenly  lying  of  the  present  day  with 
out  grieving  to  see  a  noble  art  so  prostituted.  In  this 
veteran  presence  I  naturally  enter  upon  this  scheme 
with  diffidence ;  it  is  like  an  old  maid  trying  to  teach 
nursery  matters  to  the  mothers  in  Israel.  It  would  not 
become  me  to  criticise  you,  gentlemen,  who  are  nearly 
all  my  elders  —  and  my  superiors,  in  this  thing  —  and 
so,  if  I  should  here  and  there  seem  to  do  it,  I  trust  it 
will  in  most  cases  be  more  in  a  spirit  of  admiration  than 

*  Did  not  take  the  prize. 

w**  (355) 


356  On  the  Decay  of  the  Art  of  Lying 

of  fault-finding;  indeed,  if  this  finest  of  the  fine  arts  had 
everywhere  received  the  attention,  encouragement,  and 
conscientious  practice  and  development  which  this 
Club  has  devoted  to  it,  I  should  not  need  to  utter  this 
lament,  or  shed  a  single  tear.  I  do  not  say  this  to 
flatter :  I  say  it  in  a  spirit  of  just  and  appreciative 
recognition. 

[It  had  been  my  intention,  at  this  point,  to  mention 
names  and  give  illustrative  specimens,  but  indications 
observable  about  me  admonished  me  to  beware  of  par 
ticulars  and  confine  myself  to  generalities.] 

No  fact  is  more  firmly  established  than  that  lying  is 
a  necessity  of  our  circumstances  —  the  deduction  that 
it  is  then  a  Virtue  goes  without  saying.  No  virtue 
can  reach  its  highest  usefulness  without  careful  and 
diligent  cultivation  —  therefore,  it  goes  without  saying, 
that  this  one  ought  to  be  taught  in  the  public  schools 

—  at   the    fireside  —  even    in    the    newspapers.     What 
chance  has  the   ignorant,  uncultivated  liar  against  the 
educated  expert?     What  chance  have  I  against  Mr.  Per 

—  against  a  lawyer?     Judicious  .lying  is  what  the  world 
needs.      I  sometimes  think  it  were  even  better  and  safer 
not  to  lie  at  all  than  to  lie  injudiciously.     An  awkward, 
unscientific  lie  is  often  as  ineffectual  as  the  truth. 

Now  let  us  see  what  the  philosophers  say.  Note 
that  venerable  proverb:  Children  and  fools  ahvays 
speak  the  truth.  The  deduction  is  plain  —  adults  and 
wise  persons  never  speak  it.  Parkman,  the  historian, 
says,  "  The  principle  of  truth  may  itself  be  carried  into 
an  absurdity."  In  another  place  in  the  same  chapter 
he  says,  "The  saying  is  old  that  truth  should  not  be 
spoken  at  all  times ;  and  those  whom  a  sick  conscience 
worries  into  habitual  violation  of  the  maxim  are  im 
beciles  and  nuisances. ' '  It  is  strong  language,  but  true. 
None  of  us  could  live  with  an  habitual  truth-teller; 
but,  thank  goodness,  none  of  us  has  to.  An  habitual 


On  the  Decay  of  the  Art  of  Lying  357 

truth-teller  is  simply  an  impossible  creature;  he  does 
not  exist;  he  never  has  existed.  Of  course  there  are 
people  who  think  they  never  lie,  but  it  is  not  so  —  and 
this  ignorance  is  one  of  the  very  things  that  shame  our 
so-called  civilization.  Everybody  lies  —  every  day; 
every  hour ;  awake ;  asleep  ;  in  his  dreams  ;  in  his  joy ;  in 
his  mourning;  if  he  keeps  his  tongue  still,  his  hands,  his 
feet,  his  eyes,  his  attitude,  will  convey  deception  —  and 
purposely.  Even  in  sermons  —  but  that  is  a  platitude. 

In  a  far  country  where  I  once  lived  the  ladies  used 
to  go  around  paying  calls,  under  the  humane  and 
kindly  pretense  of  wanting  to  see  each  other ;  and  when 
they  returned  home,  they  would  cry  out  with  a  glad 
voice,  saying,  "  We  made  sixteen  calls  and  found  four 
teen  of  them  out" — not  meaning  that  they  found  out 
anything  against  the  fourteen  —  no,  that  was  only  a  col 
loquial  phrase  to  signify  that  they  were  not  at  home  — 
and  their  manner  of  saying  it  expressed  their  lively  sat 
isfaction  in  that  fact.  Now  their  pretense  of  wanting  to 
seethe  fourteen  —  and  the  other  two  whom  they  had 
been  less  lucky  with  —  was  that  commonest  and  mildest 
form  of  lying  which  is  sufficiently  described  as  a  deflec 
tion  from  the  truth.  Is  it  justifiable?  Most  certainly. 
It  is  beautiful,  it  is  noble;  for  its  object  is,  not  to  reap 
profit,  but  to  convey  a  pleasure  to  the  sixteen.  The 
iron-souled  truth-monger  would  plainly  manifest,  or 
even  utter  the  fact  that  he  didn't  want  to  see  those 
people  —  and  he  would  be  an  ass,  and  inflict  a  totally 
unnecessary  pain.  And  next,  those  ladies  in  that  far 
country  —  but  never  mind,  they  had  a  thousand  pleasant 
ways  of  lying,  that  grew  out  of  gentle  impulses,  and 
were  a  credit  to  their  intelligence  and  an  honor  to  their 
hearts.  Let  the  particulars  go. 

The  men  in  that  far  country  were  liars,  every  one. 
Their  mere  howdy-do  was  a  lie,  because  they  didn't 
care  how  you  did,  except  they  were  undertakers.  To 


358  On  the  Decay  of  the  Art  of  Lying 

the  ordinary  inquirer  you  lied  in  return ;  for  you  made 
no  conscientious  diagnosis  of  your  case,  but  answered 
at  random,  and  usually  missed  it  considerably.  You 
lied  to  the  undertaker,  and  said  your  health  was  failing 
— -a  wholly  commendable  lie,  since  it  cost  you  nothing 
and  pleased  the  other  man.  If  a  stranger  called  and 
interrupted  you,  you  said  with  your  hearty  tongue, 
"I'm  glad  to  see  you,"  and  said  with  your  heartier 
soul,  "I  wish  you  were  with  the  cannibals  and  it  was 
dinner-time."  When  he  went,  you  said  regretfully, 
"Must  you  go?"  and  followed  it  with  a  "  Call  again;" 
but  you  did  no  harm,  for  you  did  not  deceive  anybody 
nor  inflict  any  hurt,  whereas  the  truth  would  have  made 
you  both  unhappy. 

I  think  that  all  this  courteous  lying  is  a  sweet  and  lov 
ing  art,  and  should  be  cultivated.  The  highest  perfec 
tion  of  politeness  is  only  a  beautiful  edifice,  built,  from 
the  base  to  the  dome,  of  graceful  and  gilded  forms  of 
charitable  and  unselfish  lying. 

What  I  bemoan  is  the  growing  prevalence  of  the 
brutal  truth.  Let  us  do  what  we  can  to  eradicate  it. 
An  injurious  truth  has  no  merit  over  an  injurious  lie. 
Neither  should  ever  be  uttered.  The  man  who  speaks 
an  injurious  truth,  lest  his  soul  be  not  saved  if  he  do 
otherwise,  should  reflect  that  that  sort  of  a  soul  is  not 
strictly  worth  saving.  The  man  who  tells  a  lie  to  help 
a  poor  devil  out  of  trouble,  is  one  of  whom  the  angels 
doubtless  say,  "  Lo,  here  is  an  heroic  soul  who  casts 
his  own  welfare  into  jeopardy  to  succor  his  neighbor's; 
let  us  exalt  this  magnanimous  liar." 

An  injurious  lie  is  an  uncommendable  thing;  and  so, 
also,  and  in  the  same  degree,  is  an  injurious  truth  —  a 
fact  which  is  recognized  by  the  law  of  libel. 

Among  other  common  lies,  we  have  the  silent  lie  — 
the  deception  which  one  conveys  by  simply  keeping 
still  and  concealing  the  truth.  Many  obstinate  truth- 


On  the  Decay  of  the  Art  of  Lying  359 

mongers  indulge  in  this  dissipation,  imagining  that  if 
they  speak  no  lie,  they  lie  not  at  all.  In  that  far 
country  where  I  once  lived,  there  was  a  lovely  spirit,  a 
lady  whose  impulses  were  always  high  and  pure,  and 
whose  character  answered  to  them.  One  day  I  was 
there  at  dinner,  and  remarked,  in  a  general  way,  that 
we  are  all  liars.  She  was  amazed,  and  said,  "Not 
all  ?  "  It  was  before  "  Pinafore's  "  time,  so  I  did  not 
make  the  response  which  would  naturally  follow  in  our 
day,  but  frankly  said,  "Yes,  all — -we  are  all  liars; 
there  are  no  exceptions."  She  looked  almost  offended, 
and  said,  "  Why,  do  you  include  me  f  "  "  Certainly," 
I  said,  "I  think  you  even  rank  as  an  expert."  She 
said,  "  'Sh—  'sh  !  the  children  !"  So  the  subject  was 
changed  in  deference  to  the  children's  presence,  and 
we  went  on  talking  about  other  things.  But  as  soon 
as  the  young  people  were  out  of  the  way,  the  lady 
came  warmly  back  to  the  matter  and  said,  "  I  have 
made  it  the  rule  of  my  life  to  never  tell  a  lie ;  and  I 
have  never  departed  from  it  in  a  single  instance."  I 
said,  "  I  don't  mean  the  least  harm  or  disrespect, 
but  really  you  have  been  lying  like  smoke  ever  since 
I've  been  sitting  here.  It  has  caused  me  a  good 
deal  of  pain,  because  I  am  not  used  to  it."  She  re 
quired  of  me  an  instance — -just  a  single  instance.  So 
I  said : 

"Well,  here  is  the  unfilled  duplicate  of  the  blank 
which  the  Oakland  hospital  people  sent  to  you  by  the 
hand  of  the  sick-nurse  when  she  came  here  to  nurse 
your  little  nephew  through  his  dangerous  illness.  This 
blank  asks  all  manner  of  questions  as  to  the  conduct  of 
that  sick-nurse:  'Did  she  ever  sleep  on  her  watch? 
Did  she  ever  forget  to  give  the  medicine?'  and  so  forth 
and  so  on.  You  are  warned  to  be  very  careful  and  ex 
plicit  in  your  answers,  for  the  welfare  of  the  service  re 
quires  that  the  nurses  be  promptly  fined  or  otherwise 


360  On  the  Decay  of  the  Art  of  Lying 

punished  for  derelictions.  You  told  me  you  were  per 
fectly  delighted  with  that  nurse  —  that  she  had  a  thou 
sand  perfections  and  only  one  fault:  you  found  you 
never  could  depend  on  her  wrapping  Johnny  up  half 
sufficiently  while  he  waited  in  a  chilly  chair  for  her  to 
rearrange  the  warm  bed.  You  filled  up  the  duplicate  of 
this  paper,  and  sent  it  back  to  the  hospital  by  the  hand 
of  the  nurse.  How  did  you  answer  this  question  — 
4  Was  the  nurse  at  any  time  guilty  of  a  negligence  which 
was  likely  to  result  in  the  patient's  taking  cold?'  Come 
— -  everything  is  decided  by  a  bet  here  in  California : 
ten  dollars  to  ten  cents  you  lied  when  you  answered 
that  question."  She  said,  "  I  didn't;  I  left  it  blank  !  " 
* '  Just  so  —  you  have  told  a  silent  lie ;  you  have  left  it 
to  be  inferred  that  you  had  no  fault  to  find  in  that 
matter."  She  said,  "  Oh,  was  that  a  lie?  And  how 
could  I  mention  her  one  single  fault,  and  she  so  good  ? 
— -it  would  have  been  cruel."  I  said,  "One  ought 
always  to  lie,  when  one  can  do  good  by  it;  your  im 
pulse  was  right,  but  your  judgment  was  crude;  this 
comes  of  unintelligent  practice.  Now  observe  the  re 
sult  of  this  inexpert  deflection  of  yours.  You  know 
Mr.  Jones's  Willie  is  lying  very  low  with  scarlet  fever; 
well,  your  recommendation  was  so  enthusiastic  that 
that  girl  is  there  nursing  him,  and  the  worn-out  family 
have  all  been  trustingly  sound  asleep  for  the  last  four 
teen  hours,  leaving  their  darling  with  full  confidence 
in  those  fatal  hands,  because  you,  like  young  George 
Washington,  have  a  reputa —  However,  if  you  are 
not  going  to  have  anything  to  do,  I  will  come  around 
to-morrow  and  we'll  attend  the  funeral  together,  for, 
of  course,  you'll  naturally  feel  a  peculiar  interest  in 
Willie's  case  —  as  personal  a  one,  in  fact,  as  the 
undertaker." 

But  that  was  all  lost.     Before  I  was  half-way  through 
she  was  in  a  carriage  and   making  thirty  miles  an  hour 


On  the  Decay  of  the  Art  of  Lying  36! 

toward  the  Jones  mansion  to  save  what  was  left  of  Willie 
and  tell  all  she  knew  about  the  deadly  nurse.  All  of 
which  was  unnecessary,  as  Willie  wasn't  sick;  I  had 
been  lying  myself.  But  that  same  day,  all  the  same, 
she  sent  a  line  to  the  hospital  which  filled  up  the 
neglected  blank,  and  stated  the  facts,  too,  in  the 
squarest  possible  manner. 

Now,  you  see,  this  lady's  fault  was  not  in  lying,  but 
only  in  lying  injudiciously.  She  should  have  told  the 
truth,  there,  and  made  it  up  to  the  nurse  with  a  fraud 
ulent  compliment  further  along  in  the  paper.  She 
could  have  said,  "  In  one  respect  the  sick-nurse  is  per 
fection —  when  she  is  on  watch,  she  never  snores." 
Almost  any  little  pleasant  lie  would  have  taken  the 
sting  out  of  that  troublesome  but  necessary  expression 
of  the  truth. 

Lying  is  universal  —  we  all  do  it ;  we  all  must  do  it. 
Therefore,  the  wise  thing  is  for  us  diligently  to  train 
ourselves  to  lie  thoughtfully,  judiciously;  to  lie  with 
a  good  object,  and  not  an  evil  one ;  to  lie  for  others' 
advantage,  and  not  our  own ;  to  lie  healingly,  chari 
tably,  humanely,  not  cruelly,  hurtfully,  maliciously ;  to 
lie  gracefully  and  graciously,  not  awkwardly  and  clum 
sily;  to  lie  firmly,  frankly,  squarely,  with  head  erect, 
not  haltingly,  tortuously,  with  pusillanimous  mien,  as 
being  ashamed  of  our  high  calling.  Then  shall  we  be 
rid  of  the  rank  and  pestilent  truth  that  is  rotting  the 
land;  then  shall  we  be  great  and  good  and  beautiful, 
and  worthy  dwellers  in  a  world  where  even  benign 
Nature  habitually  lies,  except  when  she  promises  ex 
ecrable  weather.  Then  —  But  I  am  but  a  new  and 
feeble  student  in  this  gracious  art;  I  cannot  instruct 
this  Club. 

Joking  aside,  I  think  there  is  much  need  of  wise  ex 
amination  into  what  sorts  of  lies  are  best  and  whole- 
somest  to  be  indulged,  seeing  we  must  all  lie  and  do  all 


362  On  the  Decay  of  the  Art  of  Lying 

lie,  and  what  sorts  it  may  be  best  to  avoid  — and  this 
is  a  thing  which  I  feel  I  can  confidently  put  into  the 
hands  of  this  experienced  Club  — a  ripe  body,  who 
may  be  termed,  in  this  regard,  and  without  undue  flat 
tery,  Old  Masters. 


THE  CANVASSER'S  TALE 


r)OOR,  sad-eyed  stranger !  There  was  that  about 
his  humble  mien,  his  tired  look,  his  decayed-gen 
tility  clothes,  that  almost  reached  the  mustard  seed  of 
charity  that  still  remained,  remote  and  lonely,  in  the 
empty  vastness  of  my  heart,  notwithstanding  I  observed 
a  portfolio  under  his  arm,  and  said  to  myself,  Behold, 
Providence  hath  delivered  his  servant  into  the  hands  of 
another  canvasser. 

Well,  these  people  always  get  one  interested.  Be 
fore  I  well  knew  how  it  came  about,  this  one  was  telling 
me  his  history,  and  I  was  all  attention  and  sympathy. 
He  told  it  something  like  this : 

My  parents  died,  alas,  when  I  was  a  little,  sinless 
child.  My  uncle  Ithuriel  took  me  to  his  heart  and 
reared  me  as  his  own.  He  was  my  only  relative  in  the 
wide  world ;  but  he  was  good  and  rich  and  generous. 
He  reared  me  in  the  lap  of  luxury.  I  knew  no  want 
that  money  could  satisfy. 

In  the  fullness  of  time  I  was  graduated,  and  went  with 
two  of  my  servants  —  my  chamberlain  and  my  valet  — 
to  travel  in  foreign  countries.  During  four  years  I 
flitted  upon  careless  wing  amid  the  beauteous  gardens 
of  the  distant  strand,  if  you  will  permit  this  form  of 
speech  in  one  whose  tongue  was  ever  attuned  to  poesy ; 
and  indeed  I  so  speak  with  confidence,  as  one  unto  his 

(363) 


364  The  Canvasser's  Tale 

kind,  for  I  perceive  by  your  eyes  that  you  too,  sir,  are 
gifted  with  the  divine  inflation.  In  those  far  lands  I 
reveled  in  the  ambrosial  food  that  fructifies  the  soul, 
the  mind,  the  heart.  But  of  all  things,  that  which  most 
appealed  to  my  inborn  aesthetic  taste  was  the  prevail 
ing  custom  there,  among  the  rich,  of  making  collections 
of  elegant  and  costly  rarities,  dainty  objets  de  vertu, 
and  in  an  evil  hour  I  tried  to  uplift  my  uncle  Ithuriel 
to  a  plane  of  sympathy  with  this  exquisite  employment. 

I  wrote  and  told  him  of  one  gentlemen's  vast  collec 
tion  of  shells;  another's  noble  collection  of  meerschaum 
pipes;  another's  elevating  and  refining  collection  of 
undecipherable  autographs;  another's  priceless  collec 
tion  of  old  china;  another's  enchanting  collection  of 
postage  stamps  —  and  so  forth  and  so  on.  Soon  my 
letters  yielded  fruit.  My  uncle  began  to  look  about  for 
something  to  make  a  collection  of.  You  may  know, 
perhaps,  how  fleetly  a  taste  like  this  dilates.  His  soon 
became  a  raging  fever,  though  I  knew  it  not.  He 
began  to  neglect  his  great  pork  business ;  presently  he 
wholly  retired  and  turned  an  elegant  leisure  into  a 
rabid  search  for  curious  things.  His  wealth  was  vast, 
and  he  spared  it  not.  First  he  tried  cow-bells.  He 
made  a  collection  which  filled  five  large  salons,  and 
comprehended  all  the  different  sorts  of  cow-bells  that 
ever  had  been  contrived,  save  one.  That  one  —  an 
antique,  and  the  only  specimen  extant  —  was  possessed 
by  another  collector.  My  uncle  offered  enormous  sums 
for  it,  but  the  gentleman  would  not  sell.  Doubtless 
you  know  what  necessarily  resulted.  A  true  collector 
attaches  no  value  to  a  collection  that  is  not  complete. 
His  great  heart  breaks,  he  sells  his  hoard,  he  turns  his 
mind  to  some  field  that  seems  unoccupied. 

Thus  did  my  uncle.  He  next  tried  brickbats. 
After  piling  up  a  vast  and  intensely  interesting  collec 
tion,  the  former  difficulty  supervened ;  his  great  heart 


The  Canvasser's  Tale  365 

broke  again;  he  sold  out  his  soul's  idol  to  the  retired 
brewer  who  possessed  the  missing  brick.  Then  he  tried 
flint  hatchets  and  other  implements  of  Primeval  Man, 
but  by  and  by  discovered  that  the  factory  where  they 
were  made  was  supplying  other  collectors  as  well  as 
himself.  He  tried  Aztec  inscriptions  and  stuffed  whales 
—  another  failure,  after  incredible  labor  and  expense. 
When  his  collection  seemed  at  last  perfect,  a  stuffed 
whale  arrived  from  Greenland  and  an  Aztec  inscription 
from  the  Cundurango  regions  of  Central  America  that 
made  all  former  specimens  insignificant.  My  uncle 
hastened  to  secure  these  noble  gems.  He  got  the 
stuffed  whale,  but  another  collector  got  the  inscription. 
A  real  Cundurango,  as  possibly  you  know,  is  a  posses 
sion  of  such  supreme  value  that,  when  once  a  collector 
gets  it,  he  will  rather  part  with  his  family  than  with  it. 
So  my  uncle  sold  out,  and  saw  his  darlings  go  forth, 
never  more  to  return ;  and  his  coal-black  hair  turned 
white  as  snow  in  a  single  night. 

Now  he  waited,  and  thought.  He  knew  another  dis 
appointment  might  kill  him.  He  was  resolved  that  he 
would  choose  things  next  time  that  no  other  man  was 
collecting.  He  carefully  made  up  his  mind,  and  once 
more  entered  the  field  —  this  time  to  make  a  collection 
of  echoes. 

44  Of  what?"  said  I. 

Echoes,  sir.  His  first  purchase  was  an  echo  in 
Georgia  that  repeated  four  times;  his  next  was  a  six- 
repeater  in  Maryland ;  his  next  was  a  thirteen-repeater 
in  Maine ;  his  next  was  a  nine-repeater  in  Kansas ;  his 
next  was  a  twelve-repeater  in  Tennessee,  which  he  got 
cheap,  so  to  speak,  because  it  was  out  of  repair,  a  por 
tion  of  the  crag  which  reflected  it  having  tumbled  down.. 
He  believed  he  could  repair  it  at  a  cost  of  a  few  thou 
sand  dollars,  and,  by  increasing  the  elevation  with 
masonry,  treble  the  repeating  capacity;  but  the  archi- 


366  The  Canvasser's  Tale 

tect  who  undertook  the  job  had  never  built  an  echo  be 
fore,  and  so  he  utterly  spoiled  this  one.  Before  he 
meddled  with  it,  it  used  to  talk  back  like  a  mother-in- 
law,  but  now  it  was  only  fit  for  the  deaf  and  dumb 
asylum.  Well,  next  he  bought  a  lot  of  cheap  little 
double-barreled  echoes,  scattered  around  over  various 
States  and  Territories;  he  got  them  at  twenty  per  cent. 
off  by  taking  the  lot.  Next  he  bought  a  perfect  Gat- 
ling-gun  of  an  echo  in  Oregon,  and  it  cost  a  fortune,  I 
can  tell  you.  You  may  know,  sir,  that  in  the  echo 
market  the  scale  of  prices  is  cumulative,  like  the  carat- 
scale  in  diamonds ;  in  fact,  the  same  phraseology  is 
used.  A  single-carat  echo  is  worth  but  ten  dollars  over 
and  above  the  value  of  the  land  it  is  on ;  a  two-carat 
or  double-barreled  echo  is  worth  thirty  dollars ;  a  five- 
carat  is  worth  nine  hundred  and  fifty ;  a  ten-carat  is 
worth  thirteen  thousand.  My  uncle's  Oregon  echo, 
which  he  called  the  Great  Pitt  Echo,  was  a  twenty-two 
carat  gem,  and  cost  two  hundred  and  sixteen  thousand 
dollars  —  they  threw  the  land  in,  for  it  was  four 
hundred  miles  from  a  settlement. 

Well,  in  the  meantime  my  path  was  a  path  of  roses. 
I  was  the  accepted  suitor  of  the  only  and  lovely  daugliter 
of  an  English  earl,  and  was  beloved  to  distraction.  In 
that  dear  presence  I  swam  in  seas  of  bliss.  The  family 
were  content,  for  it  was  known  that  I  was  sole  heir  to 
an  uncle  held  to  be  worth  five  millions  of  dollars. 
However,  none  of  us  knew  that  my  uncle  had  become 
a  collector,  at  least  in  anything  more  than  a  small  way, 
for  aesthetic  amusement. 

Now  gathered  the  clouds  above  my  unconscious  head. 
That  divine  echo,  since  known  throughout  the  world 
as  the  Great  Koh-i-noor,  or  Mountain  of  Repetitions, 
was  discovered.  It  was  a  sixty-five-carat  gem.  You 
could  utter  a  word  and  it  would  talk  back  at  you  for 
fifteen  minutes,  when  the  day  was  otherwise  quiet. 


The  Canvasser's  Tale  367 

But  behold,  another  fact  came  to  light  at  the  same 
time:  another  echo  collector  was  in  the  field.  The  two 
rushed  to  make  the  peerless  purchase.  The  property 
consisted  of  a  couple  of  small  hills  with  a  shallow  swale 
between,  out  yonder  among  the  back  settlements  of 
New  York  State.  Both  men  arrived  on  the  ground  at 
the  same  time,  and  neither  knew  the  other  was  there. 
The  echo  was  not  all  owned  by  one  man ;  a  person 
by  the  name  of  Williamson  Bolivar  Jarvis  owned  the 
east  hill,  and  a  person  by  the  name  of  Harbison  J. 
Bledso  owned  the  west  hill ;  the  swale  between  was  the 
dividing  line.  So  while  my  uncle  was  buying  Jarvis's 
hill  for  three  million  two  hundred  and  eighty-five  thou 
sand  dollars,  the  other  party  was  buying  Bledso's  hill 
for  a  shade  over  three  million. 

Now,  do  you  perceive  the  natural  result?  Why,  the 
noblest  collection  of  echoes  on  earth  was  forever  and 
ever  incomplete,  since  it  possessed  but  the  one-half  of 
the  king  echo  of  the  universe.  Neither  man  was  con 
tent  with  this  divided  ownership,  yet  neither  would  sell 
to  the  other.  There  were  jawings,  bickerings,  heart 
burnings.  And  at  last  that  other  collector,  with  a 
malignity  which  only  a  collector  can  ever  feel  toward  a 
man  and  a  brother,  proceeded  to  cut  down  his  hill ! 

You  see,  as  long  as  he  could  not  have  the  echo,  he 
was  resolved  that  nobody  should  have  it.  He  would 
remove  his  hill,  and  then  there  would  be  nothing  to  re 
flect  my  uncle's  echo.  My  uncle  remonstrated  with 
him,  but  the  man  said,  "  I  own  one  end  of  this  echo;  I 
choose  to  kill  my  end ;  you  must  take  care  of  your 
own  end  yourself." 

Well,  my  uncle  got  an  injunction  put  on  him.  The 
other  man  appealed  and  fought  it  in  a  higher  court. 
They  carried  it  on  up,  clear  to  the  Supreme  Court  of 
the  United  States.  It  made  no  end  of  trouble  there. 
Two  of  the  judges  believed  that  an  echo  was  personal 


368  The  Canvasser's  Tale 

property,  because  it  was  impalpable  to  sight  and  touch, 
and  yet  was  purchaseable,  salable,  and  consequently 
taxable ;  two  others  believed  that  an  echo  was  real 
estate,  because  it  was  manifestly  attached  to  the  land, 
and  was  not  removable  from  place  to  place ;  other  of 
the  judges  contended  that  an  echo  was  not  property  at 
all. 

It  was  finally  decided  that  the  echo  was  property; 
that  the  hills  were  property ;  that  the  two  men  were 
separate  and  independent  owners  of  the  two  hills,  but 
tenants  in  common  in  the  echo ;  therefore  defendant 
was  at  full  liberty  to  cut  down  his  hill,  since  it  belonged 
solely  to  him,  but  must  give  bonds  in  three  million  dol 
lars  as  indemnity  for  damages  which  might  result  to  my 
uncle's  half  of  the  echo.  This  decision  also  debarred 
my  uncle  from  using  defendant's  hill  to  reflect  his  part 
of  the  echo,  without  defendant's  consent;  he  must  use 
only  his  own  hill;  if  his  part  of  the  echo  would  not  go, 
under  these  circumstances,  it  was  sad,  of  course,  but 
the  court  could  find  no  remedy.  The  court  also  de 
barred  defendant  from  using  my  uncle's  hill  to  reflect 
his  end  of  the  echo,  without  consent.  You  see  the 
grand  result !  Neither  man  would  give  consent,  and  so 
that  astonishing  and  most  noble  echo  had  to  cease  from 
its  great  powers ;  and  since  that  day  that  magnificent 
property  is  tied  up  and  unsalable. 

A  week  before  my  wedding  day,  while  I  was  still 
swimming  in  bliss  and  the  nobility  were  gathering  from 
far  and  near  to  honor  our  espousals,  came  news  of  my 
uncle's  death,  and  also  a  copy  of  his  will,  making  me 
his  sole  heir.  He  was  gone;  alas,  my  dear  benefactor 
was  no  more.  The  thought  surcharges  my  heart  even 
at  this  remote  day.  I  handed  the  will  to  the  earl;  I 
could  not  read  it  for  the  blinding  tears.  The  earl  read 
it;  then  he  sternly  said,  4<  Sir,  do  you  call  this  wealth? 
—  but  doubtless  you  do  in  your  inflated  country.  Sir, 


The  Canvasser's  Tale  369 

you  are  left  sole  heir  to  a  vast  collection  of  echoes  —  if 
a  thing  can  be  called  a  collection  that  is  scattered  far 
and  wide  over  the  huge  length  and  breadth  of  the 
American  continent;  sir,  this  is  not  all ;  you  are  head 
and  ears  in  debt;  there  is  not  an  echo  in  the  lot  but 
has  a  mortgage  on  it;  sir,  I  am  not  a  hard  man,  but  I 
must  look  to  my  child's  interest;  if  you  had  but  one 
echo  which  you  could  honestly  call  your  own,  if  you 
had  but  one  echo  which  was  free  from  incumbrance,  so 
that  you  could  retire  to  it  with  my  child,  and  by  hum 
ble,  painstaking  industry,  cultivate  and  improve  it,  and 
thus  wrest  from  it  a  maintenance,  I  would  not  say  you 
nay ;  but  I  cannot  marry  my  child  to  a  beggar.  Leave 
his  side,  my  darling;  go,  sir,  take  your  mortgage- 
ridden  echoes  and  quit  my  sight  forever." 

My  noble  Celestine  clung  to  me  in  tears,  with  loving 
arms,  and  swore  she  would  willingly,  nay  gladly, 
marry  me,  though  I  had  not  an  echo  in  the  world. 
But  it  could  not  be.  We  were  torn  asunder,  she  to 
pine  and  die  within  the  twelve  month,  I  to  toil  life's 
long  journey  sad  and  alone,  praying  daily,  hourly,  for 
that  release  which  shall  join  us  together  again  in  that 
dear  realm  where  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling  and 
the  weary  are  at  rest.  Now,  sir,  if  you  will  be  so  kind 
as  to  look  at  these  maps  and  plans  in  my  portfolio,  I 
am  sure  I  can  sell  you  an  echo  for  less  money  than  any 
man  in  the  trade.  Now  this  one,  which  cost  my  uncle 
ten  dollars,  thirty  years  ago,  and  is  one  of  the  sweetest 
things  in  Texas,  I  will  let  you  have  for  — 

"Let  me  interrupt  you,"  I  said.  "My  friend,  I 
have  not  had  a  moment's  respite  from  canvassers  this 
day.  I  have  bought  a  sewing-machine  which  I  did  not 
want;  I  have  bought  a  map  which  is  mistaken  in  all 
its  details;  I  have  bought  a  clock  which  will  not  go;  I 
have  bought  a  moth  poison  which  the  moths  prefer  to 
any  other  beverage ;  I  have  bought  no  end  of  useless 
24** 


370  The  Canvasser's  Tale 

inventions,  and  now  I  have  had  enough  of  this  foolish 
ness.  I  would  not  have  one  of  your  echoes  if  you  were 
even  to  give  it  to  me.  I  would  not  let  it  stay  on  the 
place.  I  always  hate  a  man  that  tries  to  sell  me 
echoes.  You  see  this  gun?  Now  take  your  collection 
and  move  on;  let  us  not  have  bloodshed." 

But  he  only  smiled  a  sad,  sweet  smile,  and  got  out 
some  more  diagrams.  You  know  the  result  perfectly 
well,  because  you  know  that  when  you  have  once 
opened  the  door  to  a  canvasser,  the  trouble  is  done  and 
you  have  got  to  suffer  defeat. 

I  compromised  with  this  man  at  the  end  of  an  intoler 
able  hour.  I  bought  two  double-barreled  echoes  in 
good  condition,  and  he  threw  in  another,  which  he  said 
was  not  salable  because  it  only  spoke  German.  He 
said,  "  She  was  a  perfect  polyglot  once,  but  somehow 
her  palate  got  down." 


AN  ENCOUNTER  WITH  AN   INTERVIEWER 


THE  nervous,  dapper,  "  peart "  young  man  took  the 
chair  I  offered  him,  and  said  he  was  connected 
with  the  Daily  Thunderstorm,  and  added : 

"  Hoping  it's  no  harm,  I've  come  to  interview  you." 

"Come  to  what?" 

"Interview  you." 

"Ah!   I  see.     Yes  — yes.     Urn!     Yes  — yes." 

I  was  not  feeling  bright  that  morning.  Indeed,  my 
powers  seemed  a  bit  under  a  cloud.  However,  I  went 
to  the  bookcase,  and  when  I  had  been  looking  six  or 
seven  minutes,  I  found  I  was  obliged  to  refer  to  the 
young  man.  I  said: 

"  How  do  you  spell  it?" 

"Spell  what?" 

"  Interview." 

"  Oh,  my  goodness!  what  do  you  want  to  spell  it 
for?" 

"I  don't  want  to  spell  it;  I  want  to  see  what  it 
means." 

"Well,  this  is  astonishing,  I  must  say.  /  can  tell 
you  what  it  means,  if  you  —  if  you  — ' ' 

"  Oh,  all  right !  That  will  answer,  and  much  obliged 
to  you,  too." 

"In,  in,  ter,  ter,  inter — " 

"  Then  you  spell  it  with  an  //" 

x**  (37i) 


372  An  Encounter  with  an  Interviewer 

"Why,  certainly!" 

"  Oh,  that  is  what  took  me  so  long." 

"  Why,  my  dear  sir,  what  did  you  propose  to  spell  it 
with?" 

••Well,  I  — I  — hardly  know.  I  had  the  Una 
bridged,  and  I  was  ciphering  around  in  the  back  end, 
hoping  I  might  tree  her  among  the  pictures.  But  it's 
a  very  old  edition." 

"  Why,  my  friend,  they  wouldn't  have  a  picture  of  it 
in  even  the  latest  e —  My  dear  sir,  I  beg  your  pardon, 
I  mean  no  harm  in  the  world,  but  you  do  not  look  as 
—  as  —  intelligent  as  I  had  expected  you  would.  No 
harm  —  I  mean  no  harm  at  all." 

"  Oh,  don't  mention  it!  It  has  often  been  said,  and 
by  people  who  would  not  flatter  and  who  could  have  no 
inducement  to  flatter,  that  I  am  quite  remarkable  in 
that  way.  Yes  —  yes ;  they  always  speak  of  it  with 
rapture." 

"  I  can  easily  imagine  it.  But  about  this  interview. 
You  know  it  is  the  custom,  now,  to  interview  any  man 
who  has  become  notorious." 

"  Indeed,  I  had  not  heard  of  it  before.  It  must  be 
very  interesting.  What  do  you  do  it  with?" 

"Ah,  well  —  well  —  well  —  this  is  disheartening.  It 
ought  to  be  done  with  a  club  in  some  cases ;  but  cus 
tomarily  it  consists  in  the  interviewer  asking  questions 
and  the  interviewed  answering  them.  It  is  all  the  rage 
now.  Will  you  let  me  ask  you  certain  questions  cal 
culated  to  bring  out  the  salient  points  of  your  public 
and  private  history?" 

"  Oh,  with  pleasure  —  with  pleasure.  I  have  a  very 
bad  memory,  but  I  hope  you  will  not  mind  that. 
That  is  to  say,  it  is  an  irregular  memory  —  singularly 
irregular.  Sometimes  it  goes  in  a  gallop,  and  then 
again  it  will  be  as  much  as  a  fortnight  passing  a  given 
point.  This  is  a  great  grief  to  me." 


An  Encounter  with  an  Interviewer  3/3 

"  Oh,  it  is  no  matter,  so  you  will  try  to  do  the  best 
you  can." 

"  I  will.     I  will  put  my  whole  mind  on  it." 

'*  Thanks.     Are  you  ready  to  begin?" 

"Ready." 

Q.   How  old  are  you? 

A.   Nineteen,  in  June. 

Q.  Indeed.  I  would  have  taken  you  to  be  thirty-five 
or  six.  Where  were  you  born? 

A.   In  Missouri. 

Q.  When  did  you  begin  to  write? 

A.  In  1836. 

Q.  Why,  how  could  that  be,  if  you  are  only  nineteen 
now? 

A.  I  don't  know.  It  does  seem  curious,  some 
how. 

Q.  It  does,  indeed.  Whom  do  you  consider  the 
most  remarkable  man  you  ever  met  ? 

A.  Aaron  Burr. 

Q.  But  you  never  could  have  met  Aaron  Burr,  if  you 
are  only  nineteen  years  — 

A.  Now,  if  you  know  more  about  me  than  I  do,  what 
do  you  ask  me  for? 

Q.  Well,  it  was  only  a  suggestion;  nothing  more. 
How  did  you  happen  to  meet  Burr? 

A.  Well,  I  happened  to  be  at  his  funeral  one  day, 
and  he  asked  me  to  make  less  noise,  and  — 

Q.  But,  good  heavens !  if  you  were  at  his  funeral,  he 
must  have  been  dead,  and  if  he  was  dead  how  could  he 
care  whether  you  made  a  noise  or  not? 

A.  I  don't  know.  He  was  always  a  particular  kind 
of  a  man  that  way. 

Q.  Still,  I  don't  understand  it  at  all.  You  say  he 
spoke  to  you,  and  that  he  was  dead. 

A.   I  didn't  say  he  was  dead. 

Q.  But  wasn't  he  dead? 


374  An  Encounter  with  an  Interviewer 

A.  Well,  some  said  he  was,  some  said  he  wasn't. 

Q.  What  did  you  think? 

A.  Oh,  it  was  none  of  my  business!  It  wasn't  any 
of  my  funeral. 

Q.  Did  you  —  However,  we  can  never  get  this  mat 
ter  straight.  Let  me  ask  about  something  else.  What 
was  the  date  of  your  birth? 

A.   Monday,  October  31,  1693. 

Q.  What !  Impossible !  That  would  make  you  a 
hundred  and  eighty  years  old.  How  do  you  account 
for  that? 

A.  I  don't  account  for  it  at  all. 

Q,  But  you  said  at  first  you  were  only  nineteen,  and 
now  you  make  yourself  out  to  be  one  hundred  and 
eighty.  It  is  an  awful  discrepancy. 

A.  Why,  have  you  noticed  that?  (Shaking  hands.) 
Many  a  time  it  has  seemed  to  me  like  a  discrepancy, 
but  somehow  I  couldn't  make  up  my  mind.  How 
quick  you  notice  a  thing ! 

Q,  Thank  you  for  the  compliment,  as  far  as  it  goes. 
Had  you,  or  have  you,  any  brothers  or  sisters? 

A.  Eh  !  I  —  I  —  I  think  so  —  yes  —  but  I  don't  re 
member. 

Q.  W^ell,  that  is  the  most  extraordinary  statement  I 
ever  heard ! 

A.  Why,  what  makes  you  think  that? 

Q.  How  could  I  think  otherwise?  Why,  look  here! 
Who  is  this  a  picture  of  on  the  wall?  Isn't  that  a 
brother  of  yours? 

A.  Oh,  yes,  yes,  yes!  Now  you  remind  me  of  it; 
that  was  a  brother  of  mine.  That's  William  —  Bill 
we  called  him.  Poor  old  Bill  i 

Q.  Why?     Is  he  dead,  then? 

A.  Ah!  well,  I  suppose  so.  We  never  could  tell. 
There  was  a  great  mystery  about  it. 

Q.  That  is  sad,  very  sad.     He  disappeared,  then? 


An  Encounter  with  an  Interviewer  375 

A.  Well,  yes,  in  a  sort  of  general  way.  We  buried 
him. 

Q.  Buried  him !  Buried  him,  without  knowing 
whether  he  was  dead  or  not? 

A.  Oh,  no  !     Not  that.     He  was  dead  enough. 

Q.  Well,  I  confess  that  I  can't  understand  this.  If 
you  buried  him,  and  you  knew  he  was  dead  — 

A.  No  !   no  !      We  only  thought  he  was. 

Q.  Oh,  I  see  !     He  came  to  life  again? 

A.  I  bet  he  didn't. 

Q.  Well,  I  never  heard  anything  like  this.  Some 
body  was  dead.  Somebody  was  buried.  Now,  where 
was  the  mystery? 

A.  Ah!  that's  just  it!  That's  it  exactly.  You  see, 
we  were  twins  —  defunct  and  I  — -  and  we  got  mixed  in 
the  bathtub  when  we  were  only  two  weeks  old,  and 
one  of  us  was  drowned.  But  we  didn't  know  which. 
Some  think  it  was  Bill.  Some  think  it  was  me. 

Q.  Well,  that  is  remarkable.     What  do  you  think? 

A.  Goodness  knows  !  I  would  give  whole  worlds  to 
know.  This  solemn,  this  awful  mystery  has  cast  a 
gloom  over  my  whole  life.  But  I  will  tell  you  a  secret 
now,  which  I  never  have  revealed  to  any  creature  be 
fore.  One  of  us  had  a  peculiar  mark  —  a  large  mole 
on  the  back  of  his  left  hand  ;  that  was  me.  That  child 
was  the  one  that  was  drowned  ! 

Q.  Very  well,  then,  I  don't  see  that  there  is  any 
mystery  about  it,  after  all. 

A.  You  don't?  Well,  /  do.  Anyway,  I  don't  see 
how  they  could  ever  have  been  such  a  blundering  lot 
as  to  go  and  bury  the  wrong  child.  But,  'sh! — don't 
mention  it  where  the  family  can  hear  of  it.  Heaven 
knows  they  have  heart-breaking  troubles  enough  with 
out  adding  this. 

Q.  Well,  I  believe  I  have  got  material  enough  for  the 
present,  and  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you  for  the 


376  An  Encounter  with  an  Interviewer 

pains  you  have  taken.  But  I  was  a  good  dekl  interested 
in  that  account  of  Aaron  Burr's  funeral.  Would  you 
mind  telling  me  what  particular  circumstance  it  was  that 
made  you  think  Burr  was  such  a  remarkable  man? 

A.  Oh  !  it  was  a  mere  trifle  !  Not  one  man  in  fifty 
would  have  noticed  it  at  all.  When  the  sermon  was 
over,  and  the  procession  all  ready  to  start  for  the 
cemetery,  and  the  body  all  arranged  nice  in  the  hearse, 
he  said  he  wanted  to  take  a  last  look  at  the  scenery, 
and  so  he  got  up  and  rode  witli  the  driver. 

Then  the  young  man  reverently  withdrew.  He  was 
very  pleasant  company,  and  I  was  sorry  to  see  him  go. 


PARIS  NOTES* 


HPHE  Parisian  travels  but  little,  he  knows  no  language 
I  but  his  own,  reads  no  literature  but  his  own,  and 
consequently  he  is  pretty  narrow  and  pretty  self-suffi 
cient.  However,  let  us  not  be  too  sweeping;  there  are 
Frenchmen  who  know  languages  not  their  own :  these 
are  the  waiters.,  Among  the  rest,  they  know  English; 
that  is,  they  know  it  on  the  European  plan  —  which  is 
to  say,  they  can  speak  it,  but  can't  understand  it.  They 
easily  make  themselves  understood,  but  it  is  next  to  im 
possible  to  word  an  English  sentence  in  such  a  way  as 
to  enable  them  to  comprehend  it.  They  think  they 
comprehend  it;  they  pretend  they  do;  but  they  don't. 
Here  is  a  conversation  which  I  had  with  one  of  these 
beings;  I  wrote  it  down  at  the  time,  in  order  to  have  it 
exactly  correct. 

/.  These  are  fine  oranges.     Where  are  they  grown? 

He.   More?     Yes,  I  will  bring  them. 

/.  No,  do  not  bring  any  more;  I  only  want  to  know 
where  they  are  from  —  where  they  are  raised. 

He.  Yes?  (with  imperturbable  mien,  and  rising  inflec 
tion.) 

/.  Yes.     Can  you  tell  me  what  country  they  are  from  ? 

He.  Yes?  (blandly,  with  rising  inflection.) 

*  Crowded  out  of  "A  Tramp  Abroad"  to  make  room  for  more  vital 
statistics.—  M.  T. 

(377) 


378  Paris  Notes 

/  (disheartened).     They  are  very  nice. 

He.  Good  night.  (Bows,  and  retires,  quite  satisfied 
with  himself.) 

That  young  man  could  have  become  a  good  English 
scholar  by  taking  the  right  sort  of  pains,  but  he  was 
French,  and  wouldn't  do  that.  How  different  is  the 
case  with  our  people;  they  utilize  every  means  that 
offers.  There  are  some  alleged  French  Protestants  in 
Paris,  and  they  built  a  nice  little  church  on  one  of  the 
great  avenues  that  lead  away  from  the  Arch  of  Triumph, 
and  proposed  to  listen  to  the  correct  thing,  preached  in 
the  correct  way,  there,  in  their  precious  French  tongue, 
and  be  happy.  But  their  little  game  does  not  succeed. 
Our  people  are  always  there  ahead  of  them  Sundays, 
and  take  up  all  the  room.  When  the  minister  gets  up 
to  preach,  he  finds  his  house  full  of  devout  foreigners, 
each  ready  and  waiting,  with  his  little  book  in  his  hand 
—  a  morocco-bound  Testament,  apparently.  But  only 
apparently;  it  is  Mr.  Bellows's  admirable  and  exhaust 
ive  little  French-English  dictionary,  which  in  look  and 
binding  and  size  is  just  like  a  Testament  —  and  those 
people  are  there  to  study  French.  The  building  has 
been  nicknamed  "The  Church  of  the  Gratis  French 
Lesson." 

These  students  probably  acquire  more  language  than 
general  information,  for  I  am  told  that  a  French  ser 
mon  is  like  a  French  speech  —  it  never  names  a  his 
torical  event,  but  only  the  date  of  it ;  if  you  are  not  up 
in  dates,  you  get  left.  A  French  speech  is  something 
like  this : 

Comrades,  citizens,  brothers,  noble  parts  of  the  only  sublime  and  perfect 
nation,  let  us  not  forget  that  the  2ist  January  cast  off  our  chains  ;  that  the 
loth  August  relieved  us  of  the  shameful  presence  of  foreign  spies;  that  the 
5th  September  was  its  own  justification  before  heaven  and  humanity;  that 
the  1 8th  Brumaire  contained  the  seeds  of  its  own  punishment;  that  the 
1 4th  July  was  the  mighty  voice  of  liberty  proclaiming  the  resurrection,  the 


Paris  Notes  379 

new  day,  and  inviting  the  oppressed  peoples  of  the  earth  to  look  upon  the 
divine  face  of  France  and  live;  and  let  us  here  record  our  everlasting  curse 
against  the  man  of  the  2d  December,  and  declare  in  thunder  tones,  the 
native  tones  of  France,  that  but  for  him  there  had  been  no  1 7th  March  in 
history,  no  1 2th  October,  no  igth  January,  no  22d  April,  no  i6th  Novem 
ber,  no  3Oth  September,  no  2d  July,  no  I4th  February,  no  2pth  June,  no 
I5th  August,  no  3ist  May  —  that  but  for  him,  France  the  pure,  the  grand, 
the  peerless,  had  had  a  serene  and  vacant  almanac  to-day  ! 

I  have  heard  of  one  French  sermon  which  closed  in 
this  odd  yet  eloquent  way : 

My  hearers,  we  have  sad  cause  to  remember  the  man  of  the  I3th  Jan 
uary.  The  results  of  the  vast  crime  of  the  I3th  January  have  been  in  just 
proportion  to  the  magnitude  of  the  act  itself.  But  for  it  there  had  been  no 
3<Dth  November  —  sorrowful  spectacle  !  The  grisly  deed  of  the  1 6th  June 
had  not  been  done  but  for  it,  nor  had  the  man  of  the  i6th  June  known 
existence;  to  it  alone  the  3d  September  was  due,  also  the  fatal  I2th  Octo 
ber.  Shall  we,  then,  be  grateful  for  the  I3th  January,  with  its  freight  of 
death  for  you  and  me  and  all  that  breathe  ?  Yes,  my  friends,  for  it  gave 
us  also  that  which  had  never  come  but  for  it,  and  it  alone  —  the  blessed 
25th  December. 

It  may  be  well  enough  to  explain,  though  in  the  case 
of  many  of  my  readers  this  will  hardly  be  necessary. 
The  man  of  the  I3th  January  is  Adam;  the  crime  of 
that  date  was  the  eating  of  the  apple;  the  sorrowful 
spectacle  of  the  3<Dth  November  was  the  expulsion  from 
Eden  ;  the  grisly  deed  of  the  i6th  June  was  the  murder 
of  Abel ;  the  act  of  the  3d  September  was  the  begin 
ning  of  the  journey  to  the  land  of  Nod;  the  I2th  day 
of  October,  the  last  mountain-tops  disappeared  under 
the  flood.  When  you  go  to  church  in  France,  you 
want  to  take  your  almanac  with  you  —  annotated. 


LEGEND  OF  SAGENFELD  IN  GERMANY* 


I. 


MORE  than  a  thousand  years  ago  this  small  district 
was  a  kingdom  —  a  little  bit  of  a  kingdom,  a 
sort  of  dainty  little  toy  kingdom,  as  one  might  say.  It 
was  far  removed  from  the  jealousies,  strifes,  and  tur 
moils  of  that  old  warlike  day,  and  so  its  life  was  a 
simple  life,  its  people  a  gentle  and  guileless  race ;  it 
lay  always  in  a  deep  dream  of  peace,  a  soft  Sabbath 
tranquillity;  there  was  no  malice,  there  was  no  envy, 
there  was  no  ambition,  consequently  there  were  no 
heart-burnings,  there  was  no  unhappiness  in  the  land. 

In  the  course  of  time  the  old  king  died  and  his  little 
son  Hubert  came  to  the  throne.  The  people's  love  for 
him  grew  daily ;  he  was  so  good  and  so  pure  and  so 
noble,  that  by  and  by  this  love  became  a  passion,  almost 
a  worship.  Now  at  his  birth  the  soothsayers  had  dili 
gently  studied  the  stars  and  found  something  written  in 
that  shining  book  to  this  effect : 

In  Hubert's  fourteenth  year  a  pregnant  event  will 
happen  ;  the  animal  whose  singing  shall  sound  sweetest 
in  Hubert's  ear  shall  save  Hubert's  life.  So  long  as  the 

*Left  out  of  "A  Tramp  Abroad"  because  its  authenticity  seemed 
doubtful,  and  could  not  at  that  time  be  proved. —  M.  T. 

(380) 


Legend  of  Sagenfeld,  in  Germany  38! 

king  arid  the  nation  shall  honor  this  animal's  race  for 
this  good  deed,  the  ancient  dynasty  shall  not  fail  of  an 
heir,  nor  the  nation  know  war  or  pestilence  or  poverty. 
But  beware  an  erring  choice! 

All  through  the  king's  thirteenth  year  but  one  thing 
was  talked  of  by  the  soothsayers,  the  statesmen,  the 
little  parliament,  and  the  general  people.  That  one 
thing  was  this :  How  is  the  last  sentence  of  the 
prophecy  to  be  understood?  What  goes  before  seems 
to  mean  that  the  saving  animal  will  choose  itself,  at  the 
proper  time ;  but  the  closing  sentence  seems  to  mean 
that  the  king  must  choose  beforehand,  and  say  what 
singer  among  the  animals  pleases  him  best,  and  that  if 
he  choose  wisely  the  chosen  animal  will  save  his  life, 
his  dynasty,  his  people,  but  that  if  he  should  make 
"  an  erring  choice  " — beware  ! 

By  the  end  of  the  year  there  were  as  many  opinions 
about  this  matter  as  there  had  been  in  the  beginning; 
but  a  majority  of  the  wise  and  the  simple  were  agreed 
that  the  safest  plan  would  be  for  the  little  king  to  make 
choice  beforehand,  and  the  earlier  the  better.  So  an 
edict  was  sent  forth  commanding  all  persons  who 
owned  singing  creatures  to  bring  them  to  the  great  hall 
of  the  palace  in  the  morning  of  the  first  day  of  the  new 
year.  This  command  was  obeyed.  When  everything 
was  in  readiness  for  the  trial,  the  king  made  his  solemn 
entry  with  the  great  officers  of  the  crown,  all  clothed 
in  their  robes  of  state.  The  king  mounted  his  golden 
throne  and  prepared  to  give  judgment.  But  he 
presently  said: 

"  These  creatures  all  sing  at  once;  the  noise  is  unen 
durable  ;  no  one  can  choose  in  such  a  turmoil.  Take 
them  all  away,  and  bring  back  one  at  a  time." 

This  was  done.  One  sweet  warbler  after  another 
charmed  the  young  king's  ear  and  was  removed  to 


382  Legend  of  Sagenfeld,  in  Germany 

make  way  for  another  candidate.  The  precious  min 
utes  slipped  by :  among  so  many  bewitching  songsters 
he  found  it  hard  to  choose,  and  all  the  harder  because 
the  promised  penalty  for  an  error  was  so  terrible  that  it 
unsettled  his  judgment  and  made  him  afraid  to  trust 
his  own  ears.  He  grew  nervous  and  his  face  showed 
distress.  His  ministers  saw  this,  for  they  never  took 
their  eyes  from  him  a  moment.  Now  they  began  to 
say  in  their  hearts : 

"  He  has  lost  courage — -the  cool  head  is  gone  —  he 
will  err  —  he  and  his  dynasty  and  his  people  are 
doomed!" 

At  the  end  of  an  hour  the  king  sat  silent  awhile,  and 
then  said : 

"  Bring  back  the  linnet." 

The  linnet  trilled  forth  her  jubilant  music.  In  the 
midst  of  it  the  king  was  about  to  uplift  his  scepter  in 
sign  of  choice,  but  checked  himself  and  said: 

"But  let  us  be  sure.  Bring  back  the  thrush;  let 
them  sing  together." 

The  thrush  was  brought,  and  the  two  birds  poured 
out  their  marvels  of  song  together.  The  king  wavered, 
then  his  inclination  began  to  settle  and  strengthen  — 
one  could  see  it  in  his  countenance.  Hope  budded  in 
the  hearts  of  the  old  ministers,  their  pulses  began  to 
beat  quicker,  the  scepter  began  to  rise  slowly,  when : 

There  was  a  hideous  interruption  !  It  was  a  sound 
like  this  —  just  at  the  door: 

'Waw he!  —  waw he!  —  waw-he  ! 

waw-he  !  —  waw-he  ! ' ' 

Everybody  was  sorely  startled  —  and  enraged  at  him 
self  for  showing  it,, 

The  next  instant  the  dearest,  sweetest,  prettiest  little 
peasant  maid  of  nine  years  came  tripping  in,  her  brown 
eyes  glowing  with  childish  eagerness ;  but  when  she 
saw  that  august  company  and  those  angry  faces  she 


Legend  of  Sagenfeld,  in  Germany  333 

stopped  and  hung  her  head  and  put  her  poor  coarse 
apron  to  her  eyes.  Nobody  gave  her  welcome,  none 
pitied  her.  Presently  she  looked  up  timidly  through 
her  tears,  and  said : 

"My  lord  the  king,  I  pray  you  pardon  me,  for  I 
meant  no  wrong.  I  have  no  father  and  no  mother, 
but  I  have  a  goat  and  a  donkey,  and  they  are  all  in  all 
to  me.  My  goat  gives  me  the  sweetest  milk,  and  when 
my  dear  good  donkey  brays  it  seems  to  me  there  is  no 
music  like  to  it.  So  when  my  lord  the  king's  jester 
said  the  sweetest  singer  among  all  the  animals  should 
save  the  crown  and  nation,  and  moved  me  to  bring  him 
here—" 

All  the  court  burst  into  a  rude  laugh,  and  the  child 
fled  away  crying,  without  trying  to  finish  her  speech. 
The  chief  minister  gave  a  private  order  that  she  and 
her  disastrous  donkey  be  flogged  beyond  the  precincts 
of  the  palace  and  commanded  to  come  within  them  no 
more. 

Then  the  trial  of  the  birds  was  resumed.  The  two 
birds  sang  their  best,  but  the  scepter  lay  motionless  in 
the  king's  hand,  Hope  died  slowly  out  in  the  breasts 
of  all.  An  hour  went  by;  two  hours;  still  no  decision. 
The  day  waned  to  its  close,  and  the  waiting  multitudes 
outside  the  palace  grew  crazed  with  anxiety  and  appre 
hension.  The  twilight  came  on,  the  shadows  fell  deeper 
and  deeper,  The  king  and  his  court  could  no  longer 
see  each  other's  faces.  No  one  spoke  —  none  called 
for  lights.  The  great  trial  had  been  made;  it  had 
failed ;  each  and  all  wished  to  hide  their  faces  from  the 
light  and  cover  up  their  deep  trouble  in  their  own 
hearts. 

Finally  —  hark!  A  rich,  full  strain  of  the  divinest 
melody  streamed  forth  from  a  remote  part  of  the  hall  — 
the  nightingale's  voice  ! 

"Up!"   shouted  the   king,  "let  all  the  bells  make 


3&4  Legend  of  Sagenfeld,  in  Germany 

proclamation  to  the  people,  for  the  choice  is  made  and 
we  have  not  erred.  King,  dynasty,  and  nation  are 
saved.  From  henceforth  let  the  nightingale  be  honored 
throughout  the  land  forever.  And  publish  it  among 
all  the  people  that  whosoever  shall  insult  a  nightingale, 
or  injure  it,  shall  suffer  death.  The  king  hath  spoken." 

All  that  little  world  was  drunk  with  joy.  The  castle 
and  the  city  blazed  with  bonfires  all  night  long,  the 
people  danced  and  drank  and  sang,  and  the  triumphant 
clamor  of  the  bells  never  ceased. 

From  that  day  the  nightingale  was  a  sacred  bird. 
Its  song  was  heard  in  every  house ;  the  poets  wrote  its 
praises;  the  painters  painted  it;  its  sculptured  image 
adorned  every  arch  and  turret  and  fountain  and  public 
building.  It  was  even  taken  into  the  king's  councils; 
and  no  grave  matter  of  state  was  decided  until  the 
soothsayers  had  laid  the  thing  before  the  state  nightin 
gale  and  translated  to  the  ministry  what  it  was  that  the 
bird  had  sung  about  it. 


ii. 


THE  young  king  was  very  fond  of  the  chase.  When 
the  summer  was  come  he  rode  forth  with  hawk  and 
hound,  one  day,  in  a  brilliant  company  of  his  nobles. 
He  got  separated  from  them  by  and  by,  in  a  great 
forest,  and  took  what  he  imagined  a  near  cut,  to  find 
them  again;  but  it  was  a  mistake.  He  rode  on  and 
on,  hopefully  at  first,  but  with  sinking  courage  finally. 
Twilight  came  on,  and  still  he  was  plunging  through  a 
lonely  and  unknown  land.  Then  came  a  catastrophe. 
In  the  dim  light  he  forced  his  horse  through  a  tangled 
thicket  overhanging  a  steep  and  rocky  declivity.  When 
horse  and  rider  reached  the  bottom,  the  former  had  a 


Legend  of  Sagenfeld,  in  Germany  385 

broken  neck  and  the  latter  a  broken  leg.  The  poor 
little  king  lay  there  suffering  agonies  of  pain,  and  each 
hour  seemed  a  long  month  to  him.  He  kept  his  ear 
strained  to  hear  any  sound  that  might  promise  hope  of 
rescue ;  but  he  heard  no  voice,  no  sound  or  horn  or 
bay  of  hound.  So  at  last  he  gave  up  all  hope,  and 
said,  "  Let  death  come,  for  come  it  must." 

Just  then  the  deep,  sweet  song  of  a  nightingale  swept 
across  the  still  wastes  of  the  night. 

"  Saved  !"  the  king  said.  "  Saved  !  It  is  the  sacred 
bird,  and  the  prophecy  is  come  true.  The  gods  them 
selves  protected  me  from  error  in  the  choice." 

He  could  hardly  contain  his  joy ;  he  could  not  word 
his  gratitude.  Every  few  moments  now  he  thought  he 
caught  the  sound  of  approaching  succor.  But  each 
time  it  was  a  disappointment;  no  succor  came.  The 
dull  hours  drifted  on.  Still  no  help  came  —  but  still 
the  sacred  bird  sang  on.  He  began  to  have  misgivings 
about  his  choice,  but  he  stifled  them.  Toward  dawn 
the  bird  ceased.  The  morning  came,  and  with  it  thirst 
and  hunger;  but  no  succor.  The  day  waxed  and 
waned.  At  last  the  king  cursed  the  nightingale. 

Immediately  the  song  of  the  thrush  came  from  out 
the  wood.  The  king  said  in  his  heart,  "  This  was  the 
true  bird  —  my  choice  was  false  —  succor  will  come 
now." 

But  it  did  not  come.  Then  he  lay  many  hours  in 
sensible.  When  he  came  to  himself,  a  linnet  was  sing 
ing.  He  listened  —  with  apathy.  His  faith  was  gone. 
"These  birds,"  he  said,  "can  bring  no  help;  land 
my  house  and  my  people  are  doomed."  He  turned 
him  about  to  die ;  for  he  was  grown  very  feeble  from 
hunger  and  thirst  and  suffering,  and  felt  that  his  end 
was  near.  In  truth,  he  wanted  to  die,  and  be  released 
from  pain.  For  long  hours  he  lay  without  thought  or 
feeling  or  motion.  Then  his  senses  returned.  The 
25** 


386  Legend  of  Sagenfeld,  in  Germany 

dawn  of  the  third  morning  was  breaking.  Ah,  the 
world  seemed  very  beautiful  to  those  worn  eyes.  Sud 
denly  a  great  longing  to  live  rose  up  in  the  lad's  heart, 
and  from  his  soul  welled  a  deep  and  fervent  prayer 
that  Heaven  would  have  mercy  upon  him  and  let  him 
see  his  home  and  his  friends  once  more.  In  that  in 
stant  a  soft,  a  faint,  a  far-off  sound,  but  oh,  how 
inexpressibly  sweet  to  his  waiting  ear,  came  floating 
out  of  the  distance  : 

"  Waw he  !  waw he  !  waw-he  !  —  waw- 

he  !  —  waw-he  ! ' ' 

'  That,  oh,  that  song  is  sweeter,  a  thousand  times 
sweeter  than  the  voice  of  the  nightingale,  thrush,  or 
linnet,  for  it  brings  not  mere  hope,  but  certainty  of 
succor;  and  now,  indeed,  am  I  saved!  The  sacred 
singer  has  chosen  itself,  as  the  oracle  intended ;  the 
prophecy  is  fulfilled,  and  my  life,  my  house,  and  my 
people  are  redeemed.  The  ass  shall  be  sacred  from 
this  day!" 

The  divine  music  grew  nearer  and  nearer,  stronger 
and  stronger  —  and  ever  sweeter  and  sweeter  to  the 
perishing  sufferer's  ear.  Down  the  declivity  the  docile 
little  donkey  wandered,  cropping  herbage  and  singing 
as  he  went ;  and  when  at  last  he  saw  the  dead  horse 
and  the  wounded  king,  he  came  and  snuffed  at  them 
with  simple  and  marveling  curiosity.  The  king  petted 
him,  and  he  knelt  down  as  had  been  his  wont  when  his 
little  mistress  desired  to  mount.  With  great  labor  and 
pain  the  lad  drew  himself  upon  the  creature's  back, 
and  held  himself  there  by  aid  of  the  generous  ears. 
The  ass  went  singing  forth  from  the  place  and  carried 
the  king  to  the  little  peasant  maid's  hut.  She  gave 
him  her  pallet  for  a  bed,  refreshed  him  with  goat's  milk, 
and  then  flew  to  tell  the  great  news  to  the  first  scouting- 
party  of  searchers  she  might  meet. 

The  king  got  well.      His  first  act  was  to  proclaim  the 


Legend  of  Sagenfeld,  in  Germany  387 

sacredness  and  inviolability  of  the  ass ;  his  second  was 
to  add  this  particular  ass  to  his  cabinet  and  make  him 
chief  minister  of  the  crown ;  his  third  was  to  have  all 
the  statues  and  effigies  of  nightingales  throughout  his 
kingdom  destroyed,  and  replaced  by  statues  and  effigies 
of  the  sacred  donkey;  and  his  fourth  was  to  announce 
that  when  the  little  peasant  maid  should  reach  her 
fifteenth  year  he  would  make  her  his  queen  —  and  he 
kept  his  word. 

Such  is  the  legend.  This  explains  why  the  moulder 
ing  image  of  the  ass  adorns  all  these  old  crumbling 
walls  and  arches;  and  it  explains  why,  during  many 
centuries,  an  ass  was  always  the  chief  minister  in  that 
royal  cabinet,  just  as  is  still  the  case  in  most  cabinets 
to  this  day;  and  it  also  explains  why,  in  that  little 
kingdom,  during  many  centuries,  all  great  poems,  all 
great  speeches,  all  great  books,  all  public  solemnities, 
and  all  royal  proclamations,  always  began  with  these 
stirring  words : 

1  Waw he  \  —  waw he  \  —  waw-he  !  — • 

waw-he !  —  waw-he  ! ' ' 


SPEECH  ON  THE  BABIES 


AT  THE  BANQUET,  IN  CHICAGO,  GIVEN  BY  THE  ARMY  OF  THE 
TENNESSEE  TO  THEIR  FIRST  COMMANDER,  GENERAL  U.  S. 
GRANT,  NOVEMBER,  1879. 


[The  fifteenth  regular  toast  was  "The  Babies  — As  they  comfort  us  in 
our  sorrows,  let  us  not  forget  them  in  our  festivities."] 

I  LIKE  that.  We  have  not  all  had  the  good  fortune 
to  be  ladies.  We  have  not  all  been  generals,  or  poets, 
or  statesmen ;  but  when  the  toast  works  down  to  the 
babies,  we  stand  on  common  ground.  It  is  a  shame 
that  for  a  thousand  years  the  world's  banquets  have 
utterly  ignored  the  baby,  as  if  he  didn't  amount  to 
anything.  If  you  will  stop  and  think  a  minute  —  if 
you  will  go  back  fifty  or  one  hundred  years  to  your 
early  married  life  and  recontemplate  your  first  baby  — 
you  will  remember  that  he  amounted  to  a  good  deal, 
and  even  something  over.  You  soldiers  all  know  that 
when  that  little  fellow  arrived  at  family  headquarters 
you  had  to  hand  in  your  resignation.  He  took  entire 
command.  You  became  his  lackey,  his  mere  body- 
servant,  and  you  had  to  stand  around,  too.  He  was 
not  a  commander  who  made  allowances  for  time,  dis 
tance,  weather,  or  anything  else.  You  had  to  execute 
his  order  whether  it  was  possible  or  not.  And  there 

(388) 


Speech  on  the  Babies  589 

was  only  one  form  of  marching  in  his  manual  of  tac 
tics,  and  that  was  the  double-quick.  He  treated  you 
with  every  sort  of  insolence  and  disrespect,  and  the 
bravest  of  you  didn't  dare  to  say  a  word.  You  could 
face  the  death-storm  at  Donelson  and  Vicksburg,  and 
give  back  blow  for  blow;  but  when  he  clawed  your 
whiskers,  and  pulled  your  hair,  and  twisted  your  nose, 
you  had  to  take  it.  When  the  thunders  of  war  were 
sounding  in  your  ears  you  set  your  faces  toward  the 
batteries,  and  advanced  with  steady  tread ;  but  when 
he  turned  on  the  terrors  of  his  warwhoop  you  ad 
vanced  in  the  other  direction,  and  mighty  glad  of  the 
chance,  too.  When  he  called  for  soothing-syrup,  did 
you  venture  to  throw  out  any  side  remarks  about 
certain  services  being  unbecoming  an  officer  and  a 
gentleman?  No.  You  got  up  and  got  it.  When  he 
ordered  his  pap  bottle  and  it  was  not  warm,  did  you 
talk  back?  Not  you.  You  went  to  work  and  warmed 
it.  You  even  descended  so  far  in  your  menial  office  as 
to  take  a  suck  at  that  warm,  insipid  stuff  yourself,  to 
see  if  it  was  right  —  three  parts  water  to  one  of  milk,  a 
touch  of  sugar  to  modify  the  colic,  and  a  drop  of 
peppermint  to  kill  those  immortal  hiccoughs.  I  can 
taste  that  stuff  yet.  And  how  many  things  you  learned 
as  you  went  along !  Sentimental  young  folks  still  take 
stock  in  that  beautiful  old  saying  that  when  the  baby 
smiles  in  his  sleep,  it  is  because  the  angels  are  whisper 
ing  to  him.  Very  pretty,  but  too  thin  —  simply  wind 
on  the  stomach,  my  friends.  If  the  baby  proposed  to 
take  a  walk  at  his  usual  hour,  two  o'clock  in  the  morn 
ing,  didn't  you  rise  up  promptly  and  remark,  with  a 
mental  addition  which  would  not  improve  a  Sunday- 
school  book  much,  that  that  was  the  very  thing  you 
were  about  to  propose  yourself?  Oh  !  you  were  under 
good  discipline,  and  as  you  went  fluttering  up  and 
down  the  room  in  your  undress  uniform,  you  not  only 


390  Speech  on  the  Babies 

prattled  undignified  baby-talk,  but  even  tuned  up  your 
martial  voices  and  tried  to  sing  / — "  Rock-a-by  baby 
in  the  tree-top,"  for  instance.  What  a  spectacle  for 
an  Army  of  the  Tennessee !  And  what  an  affliction 
for  the  neighbors,  too ;  for  it  is  not  everybody  within  a 
mile  around  that  likes  military  music  at  three  in  the 
morning.  And  when  you  had  been  keeping  this  sort 
of  thing  up  two  or  three  hours,  and  your  little  velvet- 
head  intimated  that  nothing  suited  him  like  exercise 
and  noise,  what  did  you  do?  ["  Go  on  !"]  You 
simply  went  on  until  you  dropped  in  the  last  ditch. 
The  idea  that  a  baby  doesn't  amount  to  anything! 
Why,  one  baby  is  just  a  house  and  a  front  yard  full  by 
itself.  One  baby  can  furnish  more  business  than  you 
and  your  whole  Interior  Department  can  attend  to. 
He  is  enterprising,  irrepressible,  brimful  of  lawless 
activities.  Do  what  you  please,  you  can't  make  him 
stay  on  the  reservation.  Sufficient  unto  the  day  is  one 
baby.  As  long  as  you  are  in  your  right  mind  don't  you 
ever  pray  for  twins.  Twins  amount  to  a  permanent 
riot.  And  there  ain't  any  real  difference  between 
triplets  and  an  insurrection. 

Yes,  it  was  high  time  for  a  toast-master  to  recognize 
the  importance  of  the  babies.  Think  what  is  in  store 
for  the  present  crop  !  Fifty  years  from  now  we  shall 
all  be  dead,  I  trust,  and  then  this  flag,  if  it  still  survive 
(and  let  us  hope  it  may),  will  be  floating  over  a  Re 
public  numbering  200,000,000  souls,  according  to  the 
settled  laws  of  our  increase.  Our  present  schooner  of 
State  will  have  grown  into  a  political  leviathan  —  a 
Great  Eastern.  The  cradled  babies  of  to-day  will  be 
on  deck.  Let  them  be  well  trained,  for  we  are  going 
to  leave  a  big  contract  on  their  hands.  Among  the 
three  or  four  million  cradles  now  rocking  in  the  land 
are  some  which  this  nation  would  preserve  for  ages  as 
sacred  things,  if  we  could  know  which  ones  they  are. 


Speech  on  the  Babies  391 

In  one  of  these  cradles  the  unconscious  Farragut  of 
the  future  is  at  this  moment  teething  —  think  of  it !  — 
and  putting  in  a  world  of  dead  earnest,  unarticulated, 
but  perfectly  justifiable  profanity  over  it,  too.  In 
another  the  future  renowned  astronomer  is  blinking  at 
the  shining  Milky  Way  with  but  a  languid  interest  — 
poor  little  chap  !  —  and  wondering  what  has  become  of 
that  other  one  they  call  the  wet-nurse.  In  another  the 
future  great  historian  is  lying  —  and  doubtless  will 
continue  to  lie  until  his  earthly  mission  is  ended.  In 
another  the  future  President  is  busying  himself  with  no 
profounder  problem  of  state  than  what  the  mischief  has 
become  of  his  hair  so  early ;  and  in  a  mighty  array  of 
other  cradles  there  are  now  some  60,000  future  office- 
seekers,  getting  ready  to  furnish  him  occasion  to  grap 
ple  with  that  same  old  problem  a  second  time.  And 
in  still  one  more  cradle,  somewhere  under  the  flag,  the 
future  illustrious  commander-in-chief  of  the  American 
armies  is  so  little  burdened  with  his  approaching 
grandeurs  and  responsibilities  as  to  be  giving  his  whole 
strategic  mind  at  this  moment  to  trying  to  find  out 
some  way  to  get  his  big  toe  into  his  mouth  —  an 
achievement  which,  meaning  no  disrespect,  the  illus 
trious  guest  of  this  evening  turned  his  entire  attention 
to  some  fifty-six  years  ago ;  and  if  the  child  is  but  a 
prophecy  of  the  man,  there  are  mighty  few  who  will 
doubt  that  he  succeeded. 


SPEECH  ON  THE  WEATHER 


AT  THE  NEW   ENGLAND  SOCIETY'S  SEVENTY-FIRST  ANNUAL 
DINNER,  NEW  YORK  CITY. 


The  next  toast  was :   "The  Oldest  Inhabitant  —  The  Weather  of  New 
England." 

Who  can  lose  it  and  forget  it  ? 
Who  can  have  it  and  regret  it  ? 

"  Be  interposer  'twixt  us  Twain." 

Merchant  of  Venice. 

To  this  Samuel  L.  Clemens  (Mark  Twain)  replied  as  follows: — 

I  REVERENTLY  believe  that  the  Maker  who  made 
us  all  makes  everything  in  New  England  but  the 
weather.  I  don't  know  who  makes  that,  but  I  think  it 
must  be  raw  apprentices  in  the  weather-clerk's  factory 
who  experiment  and  learn  how,  in  New  England,  for 
board  and  clothes,  and  then  are  promoted  to  make 
weather  for  countries  that  require  a  good  article,  and 
will  take  their  custom  elsewhere  if  they  don't  get  it. 
There  is  a  sumptuous  variety  about  the  New  England 
weather  that  compels  the  stranger's  admiration  —  and 
regret.  The  weather  is  always  doing  something  there ; 
always  attending  strictly  to  business;  always  getting 
up  new  designs  and  trying  them  on  the  people  to  see 
how  they  will  go.  But  it  gets  through  more  business 

(392) 


Speech  on  the  Weather  393 

in  spring  than  in  any  other  season.  In  the  spring  I 
have  counted  one  hundred  and  thirty-six  different  kinds 
of  weather  inside  of  four-and-twenty  hours.  It  was  I 
that  made  the  fame  and  fortune  of  that  man  that  had 
that  marvelous  collection  of  weather  on  exhibition  at 
the  Centennial,  that  so  astounded  the  foreigners.  He 
was  going  to  travel  all  over  the  world  and  get  speci 
mens  from  all  the  climes.  I  said,  "  Don't  you  do  it; 
you  come  to  New  England  on  a  favorable  spring  day." 
I  told  him  what  we  could  do  in  the  way  of  style, 
variety,  and  quantity.  Well,  he  came  and  he  made 
his  collection  in  four  days.  As  to  variety,  why,  he  con 
fessed  that  he  got  hundreds  of  kinds  of  weather  that  he 
had  never  heard  of  before.  And  as  to  quantity  - 
well,  after  he  had  picked  out  and  discarded  all  that 
was  blemished  in  any  way,  he  not  only  had  weather 
enough,  but  weather  to  spare;  weather  to  hire  out; 
weather  to  sell ;  to  deposit ;  weather  to  invest ;  weather 
to  give  to  the  poor.  The  people  of  New  England  are 
by  nature  patient  and  forbearing,  but  there  are  some 
things  which  they  will  not  stand.  Every  year  they  kill 
a  lot  of  poets  for  writing  about  "  Beautiful  Spring." 
These  are  generally  casual  visitors,  who  bring  their 
notions  of  spring  from  somewhere  else,  and  cannot,  of 
course,  know  how  the  natives  feel  about  spring.  And 
so  the  first  thing  they  know  the  opportunity  to  inquire 
how  they  feel  has  permanently  gone  by.  Old  Proba 
bilities  has  a  mighty  reputation  for  accurate  prophecy, 
and  thoroughly  well  deserves  it.  You  take  up  the 
paper  and  observe  how  crisply  and  confidently  he 
checks  off  what  to-day's  weather  is  going  to  be  on  the 
Pacific,  down  South,  in  the  Middle  States,  in  the  Wis 
consin  region.  See  him  sail  along  in  the  joy  and  pride 
of  his  power  till  he  gets  to  New  England,  and  then  see 
his  tail  drop.  He  doesn't  know  what  the  weather  is 
going  to  be  in  New  England.  Well,  he  mulls  over  it, 


394  Speech  on  the  Weather 

and  by  and  by  he  gets  out  something  about  like  this : 
Probable  northeast  to  southwest  winds,  varying  to  the 
southward  and  westward  and  eastward,  and  points  be 
tween,  high  and  low  barometer  swapping  around  from 
place  to  place;  probable  areas  of  rain,  snow,  hail,  and 
drought,  succeeded  or  preceded  by  earthquakes,  with 
thunder  and  lightning.  Then  he  jots  down  this  post 
script  from  his  wandering  mind,  to  cover  accidents : 
' '  But  it  is  possible  that  the  programme  may  be  wholly 
changed  in  the  mean  time."  Yes,  one  of  the  brightest 
gems  in  the  New  England  weather  is  the  dazzling  un 
certainty  of  it.  There  is  only  one  thing  certain  about 
it :  you  are  certain  there  is  going  to  be  plenty  of  it  — 
a  perfect  grand  review ;  but  you  never  can  tell  which 
end  of  the  procession  is  going  to  move  first.  You  fix 
up  for  the  drought ;  you  leave  your  umbrella  in  the 
house  and  sally  out,  and  two  to  one  you  get  drowned. 
You  make  up  your  mind  that  the  earthquake  is  due ; 
you  stand  from  under,  and  take  hold  of  something  to 
steady  yourself,  and  the  first  thing  you  know  you  get 
struck  by  lightning.  These  are  great  disappointments ; 
but  they  can't  be  helped.  The  lightning  there  is  pecu 
liar;  it  is  so  convincing,  that  when  it  strikes  a  thing  it 
doesn't  leave  enough  of  that  thing  behind  for  you  to 
tell  whether—  Well,  you'd  think  it  was  something 
valuable,  and  a  Congressman  had  been  there.  And  the 
thunder.  When  the  thunder  begins  to  merely  tune  up 
and  scrape  and  saw,  and  key  up  the  instruments  for  the 
performance,  strangers  say,  "  Why,  what  awful  thunder 
you  have  here !"  But  when  the  baton  is  raised  and  the 
real  concert  begins,  you'll  find  that  stranger  down  in 
the  cellar  with  his  head  in  the  ash-barrel.  Now  as  to 
the  size  of  the  weather  in  New  England  —  lengthways, 
I  mean.  It  is  utterly  disproportioned  to  the  size  of 
that  little  country.  Half  the  time,  when  it  is  packed 
as  lull  as  it  can  stick,  you  will  see  that  New  England 


Speech  on  the  Weather  395 

weather  sticking  out  beyond  the  edges  and  projecting 
around  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  miles  over  the  neigh 
boring  States.  She  can't  hold  a  tenth  part  of  her 
weather.  You  can  see  cracks  all  about  where  she  has 
strained  herself  trying  to  do  it.  I  could  speak  volumes 
about  the  inhuman  perversity  of  the  New  England 
weather,  but  I  will  give  but  a  single  specimen.  I  like 
to  hear  rain  on  a  tin  roof.  So  I  covered  part  of  my 
roof  with  tin,  with  an  eye  to  that  luxury.  Well,  sir, 
do  you  think  it  ever  rains  on  that  tin?  No,  sir;  skips 
it  every  time.  Mind,  in  this  speech  I  have  been  trying 
merely  to  do  honor  to  the  New  England  weather  —  no 
language  could  do  it  justice.  But,  after  all,  there  is  at 
least  one  or  two  things  about  that  weather  (or,  if  you 
please,  effects  produced  by  it)  which  we  residents 
would  not  like  to  part  with.  If  we  hadn't  our  bewitch 
ing  autumn  foliage,  we  should  still  have  to  credit  the 
weather  with  one  feature  which  compensates  for  all  its 
bullying  vagaries  —  the  ice-storm  :  when  a  leafless  tree 
is  clothed  with  ice  from  the  bottom  to  the  top  —  ice 
that  is  as  bright  and  clear  as  crystal ;  when  every  bough 
and  twig  is  strung  with  ice-beads,  frozen  dewdrops, 
and  the  whole  tree  sparkles  cold  and  white,  like  the 
Shah  of  Persia's  diamond  plume.  Then  the  wind 
waves  the  branches  and  the  sun  comes  out  and  turns 
all  those  myriads  of  beads  and  drops  to  prisms  that 
glow  and  burn  and  flash  with  all  manner  of  colored 
fires,  which  change  and  change  again  with  inconceivable 
rapidity  from  blue  to  red,  from  red  to  green,  and  green 
to  gold  —  the  tree  becomes  a  spraying  fountain,  a  very 
explosion  of  dazzling  jewels;  and  it  stands  there  the 
acme,  the  climax,  the  supremest  possibility  in  art  or 
nature,  of  bewildering,  intoxicating,  intolerable  mag 
nificence.  One  cannot  make  the  words  too  strong. 


CONCERNING  THE  AMERICAN  LAN 
GUAGE* 


THERE  was  an  Englishman  in  our  compartment, 
and  he  complimented  me  on  —  on  what?  But 
you  would  never  guess.  He  complimented  me  on  my 
English.  He  said  Americans  in  general  did  not  speak 
the  English  language  as  correctly  as  I  did.  I  said  I 
was  obliged  to  him  for  his  compliment,  since  I  knew  he 
meant  it  for  one,  but  that  I  was  not  fairly  entitled  to  it, 
for  I  did  not  speak  English  at  all  —  I  only  spoke 
American. 

He  laughed,  and  said  it  was  a  distinction  without  a 
difference.  I  said  no,  the  difference  was  not  pro 
digious,  but  still  it  was  considerable.  We  fell  into  a 
friendly  dispute  over  the  matter.  I  put  my  case  as 
well  as  I  could,  and  said: 

'  The  languages  were  identical  several  generations 
ago,  but  our  changed  conditions  and  the  spread  of  our 
people  far  to  the  south  and  far  to  the  west  have  made 
many  alterations  in  our  pronunciation,  and  have  intro 
duced  new  words  among  us  and  changed  the  meanings 
of  many  old  ones.  English  people  talk  through  their 
noses ;  we  do  not.  We  say  knew,  English  people  say 
ndo  ;  we  say  cow,  the  Briton  says  kdow  ;  we  — ' ' 

*  Being  part  of  a  chapter  which  was  crowded  out  of  "A  Tramp 
Abroad."—  M.  T. 

(396) 


Concerning  the  American  Language  397 

"  Oh,  come  !  that  is  pure  Yankee;  everybody  knows 
that." 

1  Yes,  it  is  pure  Yankee;  that  is  true.  One  cannot 
hear  it  in  America  outside  of  the  little  corner  called  New 
England,  which  is  Yankee  land.  The  English  them 
selves  planted  it  there,  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago, 
and  there  it  remains;  it  has  never  spread.  But  Eng 
land  talks  through  her  nose  yet;  the  Londoner  and  the 
backwoods  New-Englander  pronounce  '  know '  and 
'  cow  '  alike,  and  then  the  Briton  unconsciously 
satirizes  himself  by  making  fun  of  the  Yankee's  pro 
nunciation." 

We  argued  this  point  at  some  length ;  nobody  won ; 
but  no  matter,  the  fact  remains  —  Englishmen  say  iiao 
and  kdow  for  "  know  "  and  '*  cow,"  and  that  is  what 
the  rustic  inhabitant  of  a  very  small  section  of  America 
does. 

*  You  conferred  your  a  upon  New  England,  too,  and 
there  it  remains ;  it  has  not  traveled  out  of  the  narrow 
limits  of  those  six  little  States  in  all  these  two  hundred 
and  fifty  years.  All  England  uses  it,  New  England's 
small  population  —  say  four  millions  —  use  it,  but  we 
have  forty-five  millions  who  do  not  use  it.  You  say 
'  glahs  of  wawtah,'  so  does  New  England;  at  least, 
New  England  says  glahs.  America  at  large  flattens 
the  #,  and  says  '  glass  of  water.'  These  sounds  are 
pleasanter  than  yours;  you  may  think  they  are  not 
right  —  well,  in  English  they  are  not  right,  but  in 
'American  '  they  are.  You  say  flahsk,  and  bahsketj 
and  jackahss ;  we  say  '  flask,'  *  basket,'  *  jackass  ' — 
sounding  the  a  as  it  is  in  '  tallow,'  '  fallow,'  and  so  on. 
Up  to  as  late  as  1847  Mr.  Webster's  Dictionary  had 
the  impudence  to  still  pronounce  '  basket '  bahsket, 
when  he  knew  that  outside  of  his  little  New  England  all 
America  shortened  the  a  and  paid  no  attention  to  his 
English  broadening  of  it.  However,  it  called  itself  an 


398  Concerning  the  American  Language 

English  Dictionary,  so  it  was  proper  enough  that  it 
should  stick  to  English  forms,  perhaps.  It  still  calls 
itself  an  English  Dictionary  to-day,  but  it  has  quietly 
ceased  to  pronounce  *  basket '  as  if  it  were  spelt 
bahsket.  In  the  American  language  the  h  is  respected  ; 
the  h  is  not  dropped  or  added  improperly." 

"  The  same  is  the  case  in  England  —  I  mean  among 
the  educated  classes,  of  course." 

"  Yes,  that  is  true;  but  a  nation's  language  is  a  very 
large  matter.  It  is  not  simply  a  manner  of  speech  ob 
taining  among  the  educated  handful ;  the  manner 
obtaining  among  the  vast  uneducated  multitude  must 
be  considered  also.  Your  uneducated  masses  speak 
English,  you  will  not  deny  that;  our  uneducated 
masses  speak  American  —  it  won't  be  fair  for  you  to 
deny  that,  for  you  can  see,  yourself,  that  when  your 
stable-boy  says,  *  It  isn't  the  'unting  that  'urts  the 
'orse,  but  the  'ammer,  'ammer,  'ammer  on  the  'ard 
'ighway,'  and  our  stable-boy  makes  the  same  remark 
without  suffocating  a  single  //,  these  two  people  are 
manifestly  talking  two  different  languages.  But  if  the 
signs  are  to  be  trusted,  even  your  educated  classes  used 
to  drop  the  h.  They  say  humble,  now,  and  heroic,  and 
historic,  etc.,  but  I  judge  that  they  used  to  drop  those 
/i's  because  your  writers  still  keep  up  the  fashion  of 
putting  an  before  those  words,  instead  of  a.  This  is 
what  Mr.  Darwin  might  call  a  '  rudimentary  '  sign  that 
an  an  was  justifiable  once,  and  useful  —  when  your 
educated  classes  used  to  say  'umble^  and  'eroic,  and 
^istoricaL  Correct  writers  of  the  American  language 
do  not  put  an  before  those  words." 

The  English  gentleman  had  something  to  say  upon 
•this  matter,  but  never  mind  what  he  said  —  I'm   not 
arguing  his  case.      I  have  him  at  a  disadvantage,  now. 
I  proceeded : 

"  In  England  you  encourage  an  orator  by  exclaiming 


Concerning  the  American  Language  399 

*H'yaah!  h'yaah!'  We  pronounce  it  heer  in  some 
sections,  '  \vyer*  in  others,  and  so  on;  but  our  whites 
do  not  say  '  h'yaah  ',  pronouncing  the  a's  like  the  a  in 
ah.  I  have  heard  English  ladies  say  '  don't  you  ' — 
making  two  separate  and  distinct  words  of  it;  your 
Mr.  Burnand  has  satirized  it.  But  we  always  say 
1  dontchu.'  This  is  much  better.  Your  ladies  say, 
*  Oh,  it's  oful  nice!'  Ours  say,  '  Oh,  it's  awful  nice!' 
We  say,  *  Four  hundred,'  you  say  'For* —  as  in  the 
word  or.  Your  clergymen  speak  of  '  the  Lawd,'  ours 
of  '  the  Lord,'  yours  speak  of  '  the  gawds  of  the 
heathen,'  ours  of  *  the  gods  of  the  heathen.'  When 
you  are  exhausted,  you  say  you  are  'knocked  up.' 
We  don't.  When  you  say  you  will  do  a  thing 
'  directly,'  you  mean  '  immediately'  ;  in  the  American 
language  —  generally  speaking  —  the  word  signifies 
4  after  a  little.'  When  you  say  '  clever,'  you  mean 
4  capable'  ;  with  us  the  word  used  to  mean  4  accom 
modating,'  but  I  don't  know  what  it  means  now.  Your 
word  4  stout '  means  4  fleshy'  ;  our  word  4  stout '  usually 
means  '  strong.'  Your  words  4  gentleman  '  and  4  lady  ' 
have  a  very  restricted  meaning;  with  us  they  include 
the  barmaid,  butcher,  burglar,  harlot,  and  horse  thief. 
You  say,  4  I  haven 't^v/  any  stockings  on/  4  I  haven't 
got  any  memory,'  4  I  haven't  got  any  money  in  my 
purse'  ;  we  usually  say,  4  I  haven't  any  stockings  on,' 
4  I  haven't  any  memory,'  4  I  haven't  any  money  in  my 
purse.'  You  say  4  out  of  window'  ;  we  always  put  in 
a  the.  If  one  asks  4  How  old  is  that  man?'  the  Briton 
answers,  4  He  will  be  about  forty;'  in  the  American 
language,  we  should  say,  4  He  is  about  forty.'  How 
ever,  I  won't  tire  you,  sir;  but  if  I  wanted  to,  I  could 
pile  up  differences  here  until  I  not  only  convinced  you 
that  English  and  American  are  separate  languages,  but 
that  when  I  speak  my  native  tongue  in  its  utmost  purity 
an  Englishman  can't  understand  me  at  all." 


400  Concerning  the  American  Language 

11  I  don't  wish  to  flatter  you,  but  it  is  about  all  I  can 
do  to  understand  you  now." 

That  was  a  very  pretty  compliment,  and  it  put  us  on 
the  pleasantest  terms  directly  —  I  use  the  word  in  the 
English  sense. 

[Later — 1882.  Esthetes  in  many  of  our  schools 
are  now  beginning  to  teach  the  pupils  to  broaden  the 
a,  and  to  say  "don't  you,"  in  the  elegant  foreign 
way.] 


ROGERS 


THIS  man  Rogers  happened  upon  me  and  introduced 
himself  at  the  town  of ,  in  the  South  of  Eng 
land,  where  I  stayed  awhile.  His  stepfather  had  mar 
ried  a  distant  relative  of  mine  who  was  afterwards 
hanged,  and  so  he  seemed  to  think  a  blood  relationship 
existed  between  us.  He  came  in  every  day  and  sat 
down  and  talked.  Of  all  the  bland,  serene  human 
curiosities  I  ever  saw,  I  think  he  was  the  chiefest.  He 
desired  to  look  at  my  new  chimney-pot  hat.  I  was 
very  willing,  for  I  thought  he  would  notice  the  name  of 
the  great  Oxford  Street  hatter  in  it,  and  respect  me 
accordingly.  But  he  turned  it  about  with  a  sort  of 
grave  compassion,  pointed  out  two  or  three  blemishes, 
and  said  that  I,  being  so  recently  arrived,  could  not  be 
expected  to  know  where  to  supply  myself.  Said  he 
would  send  me  the  address  of  his  hatter.  Then  he 
said,  "  Pardon  me,"  and  proceeded  to  cut  a  neat  circle 
of  red  tissue  paper ;  daintily  notched  the  edges  of  it ; 
took  the  mucilage  and  pasted  it  in  my  hat  so  as  to 
cover  the  manufacturer's  name.  He  said,  "  No  one 
will  know  now  where  you  got  it.  I  will  send  you  a 
hat-tip  of  my  hatter,  and  you  can  paste  it  over  this 
tissue  circle."  It  was  the  calmest,  coolest  thing — I 
never  admired  a  man  so  much  in  my  life.  Mind,  he 
did  this  while  his  own  hat  sat  offensively  near  our  noses, 
26**  (401) 


402  Rogers 

on  the  table  —  an  ancient  extinguisher  of  the  "  slouch  " 
pattern,  limp  and  shapeless  with  age,  discolored  by 
vicissitudes  of  the  weather,  and  banded  by  an  equator 
of  bear's  grease  that  had  stewed  through. 

Another  time  he  examined  my  coat.  I  had  no  ter 
rors,  for  over  my  tailor's  door  was  the  legend,  "  By 
Special  Appointment  Tailor  to  H.  R.  H.  the  Prince  of 
Wales,"  etc.  I  did  not  know  at  the  time  that  the  most 
of  the  tailor  shops  had  the  same  sign  out,  and  that 
whereas  it  takes  nine  tailors  to  make  an  ordinary  man, 
it  takes  a  hundred  and  fifty  to  make  a  prince.  He  was 
full  of  compassion  for  my  coat.  Wrote  down  the 
address  of  his  tailor  for  me.  Did  not  tell  me  to  men 
tion  my  nom  de  plume  and  the  tailor  would  put  his  best 
work  on  my  garment,  as  complimentary  people  some 
times  do,  but  said  his  tailor  would  hardly  trouble  him 
self  for  an  unknown  person  (unknown  person,  when  I 
thought  I  was  so  celebrated  in  England  ! —  that  was  the 
crudest  cut),  but  cautioned  me  to  mention  his  name, 
and  it  would  be  all  right.  Thinking  to  be  facetious,  I 
said : 

11  But  he  might  sit  up  all  night  and  injure  his 
health." 

*  Well,  /^/him,"  said  Rogers;    "  I've  done  enough 
for  him,  for  him  to  show  some  appreciation  of  it." 

I  might  as  well  have  tried  to  disconcert  a  mummy 
with  my  facetiousness.  Said  Rogers:  "  I  get  all  my 
coats  there  —  they're  the  only  coats  fit  to  be  seen  in." 

I  made  one  more  attempt.  I  said,  "  I  wish  you  had 
brought  one  with  you  —  I  would  like  to  look  at  it." 

"Bless  your  heart,  haven't  I  got  one  on? — this 
article  is  Morgan's  make." 

I  examined  it.  The  coat  had  been  bought  ready- 
made,  of  a  Chatham  Street  Jew,  without  any  question 
—  about  1848.  It  probably  cost  four  dollars  when  it 
was  new.  It  was  ripped,  it  was  frayed,  it  was  napless 


Rogers  403 

and  greasy.  I  could  not  resist  showing  him  where  it 
was  ripped.  It  so  affected  him  that  I  was  almost  sorry 
I  had  done  it.  First  he  seemed  plunged  into  a  bottom 
less  abyss  of  grief.  Then  he  roused  himself,  made  a 
feint  with  his  hands  as  if  waving  off  the  pity  of  a  nation, 
and  said  —  with  what  seemed  to  me  a  manufactured 
emotion — "No  matter;  no  matter;  don't  mind  me; 
do  not  bother  about  it.  I  can  get  another." 

When  he  was  thoroughly  restored,  so  that  he  could 
examine  the  rip  and  command  his  feelings,  he  said,  ah, 
now  he  understood  it  —  his  servant  must  have  done  it 
while  dressing  him  that  morning. 

His  servant !  There  was  something  awe-inspiring  in 
effrontery  like  this. 

Nearly  every  day  he  interested  himself  in  some 
article  of  my  clothing.  One  would  hardly  have  ex 
pected  this  sort  of  infatuation  in  a  man  who  always 
wore  the  same  suit,  and  it  a  suit  that  seemed  coeval 
with  the  Conquest. 

It  was  an  unworthy  ambition,  perhaps,  but  I  did  wish 
I  could  make  this  man  admire  something'  about  me  or 
something  I  did  —  you  would  have  felt  the  same  way. 
I  saw  my  opportunity :  I  was  about  to  return  to  Lon 
don,  and  had  "  listed  "  my  soiled  linen  for  the  wash. 
It  made  quite  an  imposing  mountain  in  the  corner  of 
the  room  —  fifty-four  pieces.  I  hoped  he  would  fancy 
it  was  the  accumulation  of  a  single  week.  I  took  up 
the  wash  list,  as  if  to  see  that  it  was  all  right,  and  then 
tossed  it  on  the  table,  with  pretended  forgetfulness. 
Sure  enough,  he  took  it  up  and  ran  his  eye  along 
down  to  the  grand  total.  Then  he  said,  "  You  get  off 
easy,"  and  laid  it  down  again. 

His  gloves  were  the  saddest  ruin,  but  he  told  me 
where  I  could  get  some  like  them.  His  shoes  would 
hardly  hold  walnuts  without  leaking,  but  he  liked  to 
put  his  feet  up  on  the  mantel-piece  and  contemplate 


404  Rogers 

them.  He  wore  a  dim  glass  breastpin,  which  he  called 
a  "  morphylitic  diamond  " — -whatever  that  may  mean 
—  and  said  only  two  of  them  had  ever  been  found  — - 
the  Emperor  of  China  had  the  other  one. 

Afterward,  in  London,  it  was  a  pleasure  to  me  to  see 
this  fantastic  vagabond  come  marching  into  the  lobby 
of  the  hotel  in  his  grand-ducal  way,  for  he  always  had 
some  new  imaginary  grandeur  to  develop  —  there  was 
nothing  stale  about  him  but  his  clothes.  If  he  ad 
dressed  me  when  strangers  were  about,  he  always  raised 
his  voice  a  little  and  called  me  "  Sir  Richard,"  or 
"  General,"  or  "  Your  Lordship  " — and  when  people 
began  to  stare  and  look  deferential,  he  would  fall  to  in 
quiring  in  a  casual  way  why  I  disappointed  the  Duke  of 
Argyll  the  night  before ;  and  then  remind  me  of  our 
engagement  at  the  Duke  of  Westminster's  for  the  fol 
lowing  day.  I  think  that  for  the  time  being  these 
things  were  realities  to  him.  He  once  came  and  invited 
me  to  go  with  him  and  spend  the  evening  with  the  Earl 
of  Warwick  at  his  town  house.  I  said  I  had  received 
no  formal  invitation.  He  said  that  that  was  of  no  con 
sequence,  the  Earl  had  no  formalities  for  him  or  his 
friends.  I  asked  if  I  could  go  just  as  I  was.  He  said 
no,  that  would  hardly  do ;  evening  dress  was  requisite 
at  night  in  any  gentleman's  house.  He  said  he  would 
wait  while  I  dressed,  and  then  we  would  go  to  his 
apartments  and  I  could  take  a  bottle  of  champagne  and 
a  cigar  while  he  dressed.  I  was  very  willing  to  see 
how  this  enterprise  would  turn  out,  so  I  dressed,  and 
we  started  to  his  lodgings.  He  said  if  I  didn't  mind 
we  would  walk.  So  we  tramped  some  four  miles 
through  the  mud  and  fog,  and  finally  found  his 
"  apartments  "  ;  they  consisted  of  a  single  room  over  a 
barber's  shop  in  a  back  street.  Two  chairs,  a  small 
table,  an  ancient  valise,  a  wash-basin  and  pitcher  (both 
on  the  floor  in  a  corner),  an  unmade  bed,  a  fragment 


Rogers  405 

of  a  looking-glass,  and  a  flower-pot  with  a  perishing 
little  rose  geranium  in  it,  which  he  called  a  century 
plant,  and  said  it  had  not  bloomed  now  for  upwards  of 
two  centuries  —  given  to  him  by  the  late  Lord  Palmer- 
ston  —  (been  offered  a  prodigious  sum  for  it)  —  these 
were  the  contents  of  the  room.  Also  a  brass  candle 
stick  and  a  part  of  a  candle.  Rogers  lit  the  candle, 
and  told  me  to  sit  down  and  make  myself  at  home. 
He  said  he  hoped  I  was  thirsty,  because  he  would  sur 
prise  my  palate  with  an  article  of  champagne  that  sel 
dom  got  into  a  commoner's  system;  or  would  I  prefer 
sherry,  or  port?  Said  he  had  port  in  bottles  that  were 
swathed  in  stratified  cobwebs,  every  stratum  represent 
ing  a  generation.  And  as  for  his  cigars  —  well,  I 
should  judge  of  them  myself.  Then  he  put  his  head 
out  at  the  door  and  called : 

44  Sackville!"     No  answer. 

* '  Hi !  —  Sackville  ! "     No  answer. 

"  Now  what  the  devil  can  have  become  of  that 
butler?  I  never  allow  a  servant  to —  Oh,  confound 
that  idiot,  he's  got  the  keys.  Can't  get  into  the  other 
rooms  without  the  keys." 

(I  was  just  wondering  at  his  intrepidity  in  still  keep 
ing  up  the  delusion  of  the  champagne,  and  trying  to 
imagine  how  he  was  going  to  get  out  of  the  difficulty.) 

Now  he  stopped  calling  Sackville  and  began  to 
call  "Anglesy."  But  Anglesy  didn't  come.  He 
said,  "  This  is  the  second  time  that  that  equerry  has 
been  absent  without  leave.  To-morrow  I'll  discharge 
him." 

Now  he  began  to  whoop  for  "  Thomas,"  but  Thomas 
didn't  answer.  Then  for  "  Theodore,"  but  no  Theo 
dore  replied. 

"  Well,  I  give  it  up,"  said  Rogers.  '  The  servants 
never  expect  me  at  this  hour,  and  so  they're  all  off  on 
a  lark.  Might  get  along  without  the  equerry  and  the 


406  Rogers 

page,  but  can't  have  any  wine  or  cigars  without  the 
butler,  and  can't  dress  without  my  valet." 

I  offered  to  help  him  dress,  but  he  would  not  hear  of 
it;  and  besides,  he  said  he  would  not  feel  comfortable 
unless  dressed  by  a  practiced  hand.  However,  he 
finally  concluded  that  he  was  such  old  friends  with  the 
Earl  that  it  would  not  make  any  difference  how  he  was 
dressed.  So  we  took  a  cab,  he  gave  the  driver  some 
directions,  and  we  started.  By  and  by  we  stopped  be 
fore  a  large  house  and  got  out.  I  never  had  seen  this 
man  with  a  collar  on.  He  now  stepped  under  a  lamp 
and  got  a  venerable  paper  collar  out  of  his  coat  pocket, 
along  with  a  hoary  cravat,  and  put  them  on.  He 
ascended  the  stoop,  and  entered.  Presently  he  re 
appeared,  descended  rapidly,  and  said: 

"  Come  —  quick!" 

We  hurried  away,  and  turned  the  corner. 

"  Now  we're  safe,"  he  said,  and  took  off  his  collar 
and  cravat  and  returned  them  to  his  pocket. 

"  Made  a  mighty  narrow  escape,"  said  he. 

"  How?"   said  I. 

4<  B'  George,  the  Countess  was  there!" 

"  Well,  what  of  that? —  don't  she  know  you?" 

"  Know  me?  Absolutely  worships  me.  I  just  did 
happen  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  her  before  she  saw  me  — 
and  out  I  shot.  Haven't  seen  her  for  two  months  — 
to  rush  in  on  her  without  any  warning  might  have  been 
fatal.  She  could  not  have  stood  it.  I  didn't  know  she 
was  in  town  —  thought  she  was  at  the  castle.  Let  me 
lean  on  you  —  just  a  moment  —  there;  now  I  am 
better  —  thank  you ;  thank  you  ever  so  much.  Lord 
bless  me,  what  an  escape!" 

So  I  never  got  to  call  on  the  Earl  after  all.  But  I 
marked  the  house  for  future  reference.  It  proved  to 
be  an  ordinary  family  hotel,  with  about  a  thousand 
plebeians  roosting  in  it. 


Rogers  4O7 

In  most  things  Rogers  was  by  no  means  a  fool.  In 
some  things  it  was  plain  enough  that  he  was  a  fool,  but 
he  certainly  did  not  know  it.  He  was  in  the  "  deadest  " 
earnest  in  these  matters.  He  died  at  sea,  last  summer, 
as  the  "  Earl  of  Ramsgate.*' 


THE  LOVES  OF  ALONZO  FITZ  CLARENCE 
AND  ROSANNAH  ETHELTON 


IT  was  well  along  in  the  forenoon  of  a  bitter  winter's 
day.  The  town  of  Eastport,  in  the  State  of  Maine, 
lay  buried  under  a  deep  snow  that  was  newly  fallen. 
The  customary  bustle  in  the  streets  was  wanting.  One 
could  look  long  distances  down  them  and  see  nothing 
but  a  dead-white  emptiness,  with  silence  to  match. 
Of  course  I  do  not  mean  that  you  could  see  the  silence 
—  no,  you  could  only  hear  it.  The  sidewalks  were 
merely  long,  deep  ditches,  with  steep  snow  walls  on 
either  side.  Here  and  there  you  might  hear  the  faint, 
far  scrape  of  a  wooden  shovel,  and  if  you  were  quick 
enough  you  might  catch  a  glimpse  of  a  distant  black 
figure  stooping  and  disappearing  in  one  of  those  ditches, 
and  reappearing  the  next  moment  with  a  motion  which 
you  would  know  meant  the  heaving  out  of  a  shovelful 
of  snow.  But  you  needed  to  be  quick,  for  that  black 
figure  would  not  linger,  but  would  soon  drop  that 
shovel  and  scud  for  the  house,  thrashing  itself  with  its 
arms  to  warm  them.  Yes,  it  was  too  venomously 
cold  for  snow  shovelers  or  any  body  else  to  stay  out 
long. 

Presently  the  sky  darkened ;  then  the  wind  rose  and 
began  to  blow  in  fitful,  vigorous  gusts,  which  sent 
clouds  of  powdery  snow  aloft,  and  straight  ahead,  and 

(408) 


Loves  of  A.  Fitz  Clarence  and  Rosa  Ethelton      409 

everywhere.  Under  the  impulse  of  one  of  these  gusts, 
great  white  drifts  banked  themselves  like  graves  across 
the  streets ;  a  moment  later,  another  gust  shifted  them 
around  the  other  way,  driving  a  fine  spray  of  snow 
from  their  sharp  crests,  as  the  gale  drives  the  spume 
flakes  from  wave-crests  at  sea ;  a  third  gust  swept  that 
place  as  clean  as  your  hand,  if  it  saw  fit.  This  was 
fooling,  this  was  play;  but  each  and  all  of  the  gusts 
dumped  some  snow  into  the  sidewalk  ditches,  for  that 
was  business. 

Alonzo  Fitz  Clarence  was  sitting  in  his  snug  and 
elegant  little  parlor,  in  a  lovely  blue  silk  dressing-gown, 
with  cuffs  and  facings  of  crimson  satin,  elaborately 
quilted.  The  remains  of  his  breakfast  were  before  him, 
and  the  dainty  and  costly  little  table  service  added  a 
harmonious  charm  to  the  grace,  beauty,  and  richness 
of  the  fixed  appointments  of  the  room.  A  cheery  fire 
was  blazing  on  the  hearth. 

A  furious  gust  of  wind  shook  the  windows,  and  a 
great  wave  of  snow  washed  against  them  with  a  drench 
ing  sound,  so  to  speak.  The  handsome  young  bachelor 
murmured : 

'  That  means,  no  going  out  to-day.  Well,  I  am 
content.  But  what  to  do  for  company?  Mother  is 
well  enough,  Aunt  Susan  is  well  enough;  but  these, 
like  the  poor,  I  have  with  me  always.  On  so  grim  a 
day  as  this,  one  needs  a  new  interest,  a  fresh  element, 
to  whet  the  dull  edge  of  captivity.  That  was  very 
neatly  said,  but  it  doesn't  mean  anything.  One  doesn't 
want  the  edge  of  captivity  sharpened  up,  you  know, 
but  just  the  reverse." 

He  glanced  at  his  pretty  French  mantel-clock. 
1  That  clock's  wrong  again.     That  clock  hardly  ever 
knows  what  time  it  is ;   and  when  it  does  know,  it  lies 
about  it  —  which  amounts  to  the  same  thing.     Alfred  ! ' ' 

There  was  no  answer. 


410      Loves  of  A.  Fitz  Clarence  and  Rosa  Ethelton 

" Alfred  ! Good  servant,  but  as  uncertain  as 

the  clock." 

Alonzo  touched  an  electric  bell  button  in  the  wall. 
He  waited  a  moment,  then  touched  it  again ;  waited  a 
few  moments  more,  and  said : 

"  Battery  out  of  order,  no  doubt.  But  now  that  I 
have  started,  I  will  find  out  what  time  it  is."  He 
stepped  to  a  speaking-tube  in  the  wall,  blew  its 
whistle,  and  called,  "  Mother!"  and  repeated  it  twice. 

"  Well,  that's  no  use.  Mother's  battery  is  out  of 
order,  too.  Can't  raise  anybody  downstairs  —  that  is 
plain." 

He  sat  down  at  a  rosewood  desk,  leaned  his  chin  on 
the  left-hand  edge  of  it,  and  spoke,  as  if  to  the  floor : 
"Aunt  Susan!" 

A  low,  pleasant  voice  answered,  "  Is  that  you, 
Alonzo?" 

44  Yes.  I'm  too  lazy  and  comfortable  to  go  down 
stairs;  I  am  in  extremity,  and  I  can/t  seem  to  scare  up 
any  help." 

"  Dear  me,  what  is  the  matter?" 

"  Matter  enough,  I  can  tell  you!"' 

"  Oh,  don't  keep  me  in  suspense,  dear!  What  is 
it?" 

"  I  want  to  know  what  time  it  is." 
1  You  abominable  boy,  what  a  turn  you  did  give  me  ! 
Is  that  all?" 

"All  —  on  my  honor.  Calm  yourself.  Tell  me  the 
time,  and  receive  my  blessing." 

"Just  five  minutes  after  nine.  No  charge — -  keep 
your  blessing." 

"  Thanks.  It  wouldn't  have  impoverished  me, 
aunty,  nor  so  enriched  you  that  you  could  live  without 
other  means." 

He  got  up,  murmuring,  "  Just  five  minutes  after 
nine,"  and  faced  his  clock.  "Ah,"  said  he,  "you 


Loves  of  A.  Fitz  Clarence  and  Rosa  Ethelton      411 

are  doing  better  than  usual.     You  are  only  thirty-four 

minutes    wrong.     Let  me  see let  me   see 

Thirty-three   and   twenty-one    are    fifty-four; 

four  times  fifty-four  are  two  hundred  and  thirty-six. 
One  off,  leaves  two  hundred  and  thirty-five.  That's 
right." 

He  turned  the  hands  of  his  clock  forward  till  they 
marked  twenty-five  minutes  to  one,  and  said,    "  Now 

see  if  you  can't  keep  right  for  a  while else  I'll 

raffle  you!" 

He  sat  down  at  the  desk  again,  and  said,  "Aunt 
Susan!" 

"  Yes,  dear." 
4  Had  breakfast?" 
1  Yes,  indeed,  an  hour  ago." 

"Busy?" 

"  No  —  except  sewing.     Why?" 

"  Got  any  company?" 

"  No,  but  I  expect  some  at  half-past  nine." 

''  I  wish  7  did.  I'm  lonesome.  I  want  to  talk  to 
somebody." 

4  Very  well,  talk  to  me." 

"  But  this  is  very  private." 

14  Don't  be  afraid  —  talk  right  along,  there's  nobody 
here  but  me." 

"  I  hardly  know  whether  to  venture  or  not,  but — " 

"But  what?  Oh,  don't  stop  there!  You  know 
you  can  trust  me,  Alonzo  —  you  know  you  can." 

11  I  feel  it,  aunt,  but  this  is  very  serious.  It  affects 
me  deeply  —  me,  and  all  the  family  —  even  the  whole 
community." 

"  Oh,  Alonzo,  tell  me !  I  will  never  breathe  a  word 
of  it.  What  is  it?" 

"Aunt,  if  I  might  dare — " 

14  Oh,  please  go  on !  I  love  you,  and  feel  for  you. 
Tell  me  all.  Confide  in  me.  What  is  it?" 


412      Loves  of  A.  Fitz  Clarence  and  Rosa  Ethelton 

•'  The  weather!" 

"  Plague  take  the  weather!  I  don't  see  how  you 
can  have  the  heart  to  serve  me  so,  Lon." 

"  There,  there,  aunty  dear,  I'm  sorry;  1  am,  on  my 
honor.  I  won't  do  it  again.  Do  you  forgive  me?" 

*  Yes,  since  you  seem  so  sincere  about  it,  though  I 
know  I  oughtn't  to.     You  will  fool  me  again  as   soon 
as  I  have  forgotten  this  time." 

"  No,  I  won't,  honor  bright.  But  such  weather,  oh, 
such  weather!  You've  got  to  keep  your  spirits  up 
artificially.  It  is  snowy,  and  blowy,  and  gusty,  and 
bitter  cold  !  How  is  the  weather  with  you?" 

*  Warm  and  rainy  and  melancholy,     The  mourners 
go    about    the    streets    with    their    umbrellas    running 
streams  from  the  end  of  every  whalebone.     There's  an 
elevated    double    pavement    of    umbrellas    stretching 
down  the  sides  of  the  streets  as  far  as  I  can  see.     I've 
got  a  fire  for  cheerfulness,  and  the  windows  open  to  keep 
cool.     But  it  is  vain,  it  is   useless:   nothing  comes  in 
but  the  balmy  breath  of  December,  with  its  burden  of 
mocking  odors  from  the  flowers  that  possess  the  realm 
outside,  and  rejoice  in  their  lawless  profusion  whilst  the 
spirit  of  man  is  low,  and  flaunt  their   gaudy  splendors 
in  his  face  while  his  soul  is  clothed  in  sackcloth  and 
ashes  and  his  heart  breaketh." 

Alonzo  opened  his  lips  to  say,  "  You  ought  to  print 
that,  and  get  it  framed,"  but  checked  himself,  for  he 
heard  his  aunt  speaking  to  some  one  else.  He  went 
and  stood  at  the  window  and  looked  out  upon  the 
wintry  prospect.  The  storm  was  driving  the  snow  be 
fore  it  more  furiously  than  ever ;  window-shutters  were 
slamming  and  banging ;  a  forlorn  dog,  with  bowed  head 
and  tail  withdrawn  from  service,  was  pressing  his 
quaking  body  against  a  windward  wall  for  shelter  and 
protection ;  a  young  girl  was  plowing  knee-deep 
through  the  drifts,  with  her  face  turned  from  the  blast, 


Loves  of  A.  Fitz  Clarence  and  Rosa  Ethelton      413 

and  the  cape  of  her  waterproof  blowing  straight  rear 
ward  over  her  head.  Alonzo  shuddered,  and  said  with 
a  sigh,  "  Better  the  slop,  and  the  sultry  rain,  and  even 
the  insolent  flowers,  than  this!" 

He  turned  from  the  window,  moved  a  step,  and 
stopped  in  a  listening  attitude.  The  faint,  sweet  notes 
of  a  familiar  song  caught  his  ear.  He  remained  there, 
with  his  head  unconsciously  bent  forward,  drinking  in 
the  melody,  stirring  neither  hand  nor  foot,  hardly 
breathing.  There  was  a  blemish  in  the  execution  of 
the  song,  but  to  Alonzo  it  seemed  an  added  charm  in 
stead  of  a  defect.  This  blemish  consisted  of  a  marked 
flatting  of  the  third,  fourth,  fifth,  sixth,  and  seventh 
notes  of  the  refrain  or  chorus  of  the  piece.  When  the 
music  ended,  Alonzo  drew  a  deep  breath,  and  said, 
"Ah,  I  never  have  heard  '  In  the  Sweet  By-and-by  ' 
sung  like  that  before  !" 

He  stepped  quickly  to  the  desk,  listened  a  moment, 
and  said  in  a  guarded,  confidential  voice,  "Aunty,  who 
is  this  divine  singer?" 

"  She  is  the  company  I  was  expecting.  Stays  with 
me  a  month  or  two.  I  will  introduce  you.  Miss — " 

"  For  goodness'  sake,  wait  a  moment,  Aunt  Susan ! 
You  never  stop  to  think  what  you  are  about!" 

He  flew  to  his  bedchamber,  and  returned  in  a  moment 
perceptibly  changed  in  his  outward  appearance,  and 
remarking,  snappishly: 

"  Hang  it,  she  would  have  introduced  me  to  this 
angel  in  that  sky-blue  dressing-gown  with  red-hot 
lapels  !  Women  never  think,  when  they  get  a-going." 

He  hastened  and  stood  by  the  desk,  and  said  eagerly, 
"  Now,  Aunty,  I  am  ready,"  and  fell  to  smiling  and 
bowing  with  all  the  persuasiveness  and  elegance  that 
were  in  him. 

"  Very  well.  Miss  Rosannah  Ethelton,  let  me  in 
troduce  to  you  my  favorite  nephew,  Mr.  Alonzo  Fitz 


414      Loves  of  A.  Fitz  Clarence  and  Rosa  Ethelton 

Clarence.  There  !  You  are  both  good  people,  and  I 
like  you ;  so  I  am  going  to  trust  you  together  while  I 
attend  to  a  few  household  affairs.  Sit  down,  Rosannah  ; 
sit  down,  Alonzo.  Good-bye;  I  sha'n't  be  gone 
long." 

Alonzo  had  been  bowing  and  smiling  all  the  while, 
and  motioning  imaginary  young  ladies  to  sit  down  in 
imaginary  chairs,  but  now  he  took  a  seat  himself, 
mentally  saying,  "Oh,  this  is  luck!  Let  the  winds 
blow  now,  and  the  snow  drive,  and  the  heavens  frown ! 
Little  I  care!" 

While  these  young  people  chat  themselves  into  an 
acquaintanceship,  let  us  take  the  liberty  of  inspecting 
the  sweeter  and  fairer  of  the  two.  She  sat  alone,  at 
her  graceful  ease,  in  a  richly  furnished  apartment  which 
was  manifestly  the  private  parlor  of  a  refined  and  sensi 
ble  lady,  if  signs  and  symbols  may  go  for  anything. 
For  instance,  by  a  low,  comfortable  chair  stood  a 
dainty,  top-heavy  workstand,  whose  summit  was  a  fan 
cifully  embroidered  shallow  basket,  with  varicolored 
crewels,  and  other  strings  and  odds  and  ends  protrud 
ing  from  under  the  gaping  lid  and  hanging  down  in 
negligent  profusion.  On  the  floor  lay  bright  shreds  of 
Turkey  red,  Prussian  blue,  and  kindred  fabrics,  bits  of 
ribbon,  a  spool  or  two,  a  pair  of  scissors,  and  a  roll  or 
so  of  tinted  silken  stuffs.  On  a  luxurious  sofa,  up 
holstered  with  some  sort  of  soft  Indian  goods  wrought 
in  black  and  gold  threads  interwebbed  with  other 
threads  not  so  pronounced  in  color,  lay  a  great  square 
of  coarse  white  stuff,  upon  whose  surface  a  rich  bou 
quet  of  flowers  was  growing,  under  the  deft  cultivation 
of  the  crochet-needle.  The  household  cat  was  asleep 
on  this  work  of  art.  In  a  bay-window  stood  an  easel 
with  an  unfinished  picture  on  it,  and  a  palette  and 
brushes  on  a  chair  beside  it.  There  were  books  every 
where :  Robertson's  Sermons,  Tennyson,  Moody  and 


Loves  of  A.  Fitz  Clarence  and  Rosa  Ethelton      415 

Sanky,  Hawthorne,  "  Rab  and  his  Friends, "  cook 
books,  prayer-books,  pattern-books  —  and  books  about 
all  kinds  of  odious  and  exasperating  pottery,  of  course. 
There  was  a  piano,  with  a  deck-load  of  music,  and 
more  in  a  tender.  There  was  a  great  plenty  of  pictures 
on  the  walls,  on  the  shelves  of  the  mantel-piece,  and 
around  generally ;  where  coigns  of  vantage  offered  were 
statuettes,  and  quaint  and  pretty  gimcracks,  and  rare 
and  costly  specimens  of  peculiarly  devilish  china.  The 
bay-window  gave  upon  a  garden  that  was  ablaze  with 
foreign  and  domestic  flowers  and  flowering  shrubs. 

But  the  sweet  young  girl  was  the  daintiest  thing 
these  premises,  within  or  without,  could  offer  for  con 
templation:  delicately  chiseled  features,  of  Grecian 
cast ;  her  complexion  the  pure  snow  of  a  japonica  that 
is  receiving  a  faint  reflected  enrichment  from  some  scar 
let  neighbor  of  the  garden ;  great,  soft  blue  eyes  fringed 
with  long,  curving  lashes ;  an  expression  made  up  of 
the  trustfulness  of  a  child  and  the  gentleness  of  a  fawn ; 
a  beautiful  head  crowned  with  its  own  prodigal  gold ; 
a  lithe  and  rounded  figure,  whose  every  attitude  and 
movement  were  instinct  with  native  grace. 

Her  dress  and  adornment  were  marked  by  that  ex 
quisite  harmony  that  can  come  only  of  a  fine  natural 
taste  perfected  by  culture.  Her  gown  was  of  a  simple 
magenta  tulle,  cut  bias,  traversed  by  three  rows  of  light 
blue  flounces,  with  the  selvage  edges  turned  up  with 
ashes-of-roses  chenille ;  overdress  of  dark  bay  tarlatan 
with  scarlet  satin  lambrequins ;  corn-colored  polonaise, 
en  panier,  looped  with  mother-of-pearl  buttons  and 
silver  cord,  and  hauled  aft  and  made  fast  by  buff- velvet 
lashings;  basque  of  lavender  reps,  picked  out  with 
Valenciennes ;  low  neck,  short  sleeves ;  maroon-velvet 
necktie  edged  with  delicate  pink  silk ;  inside  handker 
chief  of  some  simple  three-ply  ingrain  fabric  of  a  soft 
saffron  tint;  coral  bracelets  and  locket-chain;  coiffure 

37 


416      Loves  of  A.  Fitz  Clarence  and  Rosa  Ethelton 

of  forget-me-nots  and  lilies  of  the  valley  massed  around 
a  noble  calla. 

This  was  all ;  yet  even  in  this  subdued  attire  she  was 
divinely  beautiful.  Then  what  must  she  have  been 
when  adorned  for  the  festival  or  the  ball? 

All  this  time  she  had  been  busily  chatting  with  Alonzo, 
unconscious  of  our  inspection.  The  minutes  still  sped, 
and  still  she  talked.  But  by  and  by  she  happened  to 
look  up,  and  saw  the  clock.  A  crimson  blush  sent  its 
rich  flood  through  her  cheeks,  and  she  exclaimed : 

*' There,  good-bye,  Mr.  Fitz  Clarence;  I  must  go 
now!" 

She  sprang  from  her  chair  with  such  haste  that  she 
hardly  heard  the  young  man's  answering  good-bye. 
She  stood  radiant,  graceful,  beautiful,  and  gazed, 
wondering,  upon  the  accusing  clock.  Presently  her 
pouting  lips  parted,  and  she  said : 

"  Five  minutes  after  eleven  !  Nearly  two  hours,  and 
it  did  not  seem  twenty  minutes !  Oh,  dear,  what  will 
he  think  of  me  ! " 

At  the  self-same  moment  Alonzo  was  staring  at  his 
clock.  And  presently  he  said : 

'  Twenty-five  minutes  to  three  !     Nearly  two  hours, 
and  I  didn't  believe  it  was  two  minutes !      Is  it  possible 
that  this  clock  is  humbugging  again?     Miss  Ethelton! 
Just  one  moment,  please.     Are  you  there  yet?" 
1  Yes,  but  be  quick;   I'm  going  right  away." 

"  Would  you  be  so  kind  as  to  tell  me  what  time  it 
is?" 

The  girl  blushed  again,  murmured  to  herself,  "  It's 
right  down  cruel  of  him  to  ask  me!"  and  then  spoke 
up  and  answered  with  admirably- counterfeited  uncon 
cern,  "  Five  minutes  after  eleven." 

"Oh,  thank  you!  You  have  to  go,  now,  have 
you?" 

"Yes." 


Loves  of  A.  Fitz  Clarence  and  Rosa  Ethelton      417 

*'  I'm  sorry." 

No  reply. 

4 'Miss  Ethelton !" 

"Well?" 
*  You  —  you're  there  yet,  ain't  you?" 

"Yes;  but  please  hurry.  What  did  you  want  to 
say?" 

"Well,  I  —  well,  nothing  in  particular.  It's  very 
lonesome  here.  It's  asking  a  great  deal,  I  know,  but 
would  you  mind  talking  with  me  again  by  and  by  — 
that  is,  if  it  will  not  trouble  you  too  much?" 

"  I  don't  know — but  I'll  think  about  it.      I'll  try." 

"  Oh,   thanks!      Miss   Ethelton! Ah,   me, 

she's  gone,  and  here  are  the  black  clouds  and  the  whirl 
ing  snow  and  the  raging  winds  come  again  !  But  she 
said  good-bye  .  She  didn't  say  good-morning,  she  said 

good-bye ! The  clock  was  right,  after  all. 

What  a  lightning-winged  two  hours  it  was  !" 

He  sat  down,  and  gazed  dreamily  into  his  fire  for 
awhile,  then  heaved  a  sigh  and  said : 

"  How  wonderful  it  is  !  Two  little  hours  ago  I  was 
a  free  man,  and  now  my  heart's  in  San  Francisco  1" 

About  that  time  Rosannah  Ethelton,  propped  in  the 
window-seat  of  her  bed-chamber,  book  in  hand,  was 
gazing  vacantly  out  over  the  rainy  seas  that  washed  the 
Golden  Gate,  and  whispering  to  herself,  "  How  differ 
ent  he  is  from  poor  Burley,  with  his  empty  head  and 
his  single  little  antic  talent  of  mimicry!" 


ii. 

FOUR  weeks  later  Mr.  Sidney  Algernon  Burley  was 
entertaining  a  gay  luncheon  company,  in  a  sumptuous 
drawing-room  on  Telegraph  Hill,  with  some  capital 


418      Loves  of  A.  Fitz  Clarence  and  Rosa  Ethelton 

imitations  of  the  voices  and  gestures  of  certain  popular 
actors  and  San  Franciscan  literary  people  and  Bonanza 
grandees.  He  was  elegantly  upholstered,  and  was  a 
handsome  fellow,  barring  a  trifling  cast  in  his  eye.  He 
seemed  very  jovial,  but  nevertheless  he  kept  his  eye  on 
the  door  with  an  expectant  and  uneasy  watchfulness. 
By  and  by  a  nobby  lackey  appeared,  and  delivered  a 
message  to  the  mistress,  who  nodded  her  head  under- 
standingly.  That  seemed  to  settle  the  thing  for  Mr. 
Burley;  his  vivacity  decreased  little  by  little,  and  a  de 
jected  look  began  to  creep  into  one  of  his  eyes  and  a 
sinister  one  into  the  other. 

The  rest  of  the  company  departed  in  due  time,  leav 
ing  him  with  the  mistress,  to  whom  he  said : 

4  There  is  no  longer  any  question  about  it.  She 
avoids  me.  She  continually  excuses  herself.  If  I 
could  see  her,  if  I  could  speak  to  her  only  a  moment 
—  but  this  suspense  — " 

"  Perhaps  her  seeming  avoidance  is  mere  accident, 
Mr.  Burley.  Go  to  the  small  drawing-room  upstairs 
and  amuse  yourself  a  moment.  I  will  despatch  a 
household  order  that  is  on  my  mind,  and  then  I  will  go 
to  her  room.  Without  doubt  she  will  be  persuaded  to 
see  you." 

Mr.  Burley  went  upstairs,  intending  to  go  to  the 
small  drawing-room,  but  as  he  was  passing  "Aunt 
Susan's  "  private  parlor,  the  door  of  which  stood 
slightly  ajar,  he  heard  a  joyous  laugh  which  he  recog 
nized  ;  so  without  knock  or  announcement  he  stepped 
confidently  in.  But  before  he  could  make  his  presence 
known  he  heard  words  that  harrowed  up  his  soul  and 
chilled  his  young  blood.  He  heard  a  voice  say: 

"  Darling,  it  has  come !" 

Then  he  heard  Rosannah  Ethelton,  whose  back  was 
toward  him,  say: 

44  So  has  yours,  dearest!" 


Loves  of  A.  Fitz  Clarence  and  Rosa  Ethelton      419 

He  saw  her  bowed  form  bend  lower ;  he  heard  her 
kiss  something  —  not  merely  once,  but  again  and  again  ! 
His  soul  raged  within  him.  The  heart-breaking  con 
versation  went  on : 

*'  Rosannah,  I  knew  you  must  be  beautiful,  but  this 
is  dazzling,  this  is  blinding,  this  is  intoxicating!" 

"Alonzo,  it  is  such  happiness  to  hear  you  say  it.  I 
know  it  is  not  true,  but  I  am  so  grateful  to  have  you 
think  it  is,  nevertheless !  I  knew  you  must  have  a 
noble  face,  but  the  grace  and  majesty  of  the  reality 
beggar  the  poor  creation  of  my  fancy." 

Burley  heard  that  rattling  shower  of  kisses  again. 
1  Thank  you,  my  Rosannah  !     The  photograph  flat 
ters  me,  but  you  must  not  allow  yourself  to  think  of 
that.     Sweetheart?" 
4  Yes,  Alonzo." 

11  I  am  so  happy,  Rosannah." 

"  Oh,  Alonzo,  none  that  have  gone  before  me  knew 
what  love  was,  none  that  come  after  me  will  ever  know 
what  happiness  is.  I  float  in  a  gorgeous  cloudland,  a 
boundless  firmament  of  enchanted  and  bewildering 
ecstasy!" 

"  Oh,  my  Rosannah! — for  you  are  mine,  are  you 
not?" 

'  Wholly,  oh,  wholly  yours,  Alonzo,  now  and  for 
ever  !  All  the  day  long,  and  all  through  my  nightly 
dreams,  one  song  sings  itself,  and  its  sweet  burden  is, 
'Alonzo  Fitz  Clarence,  Alonzo  Fitz  Clarence,  Eastport, 
State  of  Maine!  " 

"  Curse  him,  I've  got  his  address,  anyway!"  roared 
Burley,  inwardly,  and  rushed  from  the  place. 

Just  behind  the  unconscious  Alonzo  stood  his  mother, 
a  picture  of  astonishment.  She  was  so  muffled  from 
head  to  heel  in  furs  that  nothing  of  herself  was  visible 
but  her  eyes  and  nose.  She  was  a  good  allegory  of 
winter,  for  she  was  powdered  all  over  with  snow. 


420     Loves  of  A.  Fitz  Clarence  and  Rosa  Ethelton 

Behind  the  unconscious  Rosannah  stood  "Aunt 
Susan,"  another  picture  of  astonishment.  She  was  a 
good  allegory  of  summer,  for  she  was  lightly  clad, 
and  was  vigorously  cooling  the  perspiration  on  her 
face  with  a  fan. 

Both  of  these  women  had  tears  of  joy  in  their  eyes. 

11  So  ho!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Fitz  Clarence,  "  this  ex 
plains  why  nobody  has  been  able  to  drag  you  out  of 
your  room  for  six  weeks,  Alonzo !" 

"So  ho!"  exclaimed  Aunt  Susan,  "this  explains 
why  you  have  been  a  hermit  for  the  past  six  weeks, 
Rosannah !" 

The  young  couple  were  on  their  feet  in  an  instant, 
abashed,  and  standing  like  detected  dealers  in  stolen 
goods  awaiting  Judge  Lynch' s  doom. 

"Bless  you,  my  son!  I  am  happy  in  your  hap 
piness.  Come  to  your  mother's  arms,  Alonzo!" 

"  Bless  you,  Rosannah,  for  my  dear  nephew's  sake! 
Come  to  my  arms!" 

Then  was  there  a  mingling  of  hearts  and  of  tears  of 
rejoicing  on  Telegraph  Hill  and  in  Eastport  Square. 

Servants  were  called  by  the  elders,  in  both  places. 
Unto  one  was  given  the  order,  "  Pile  this  fire  high 
with  hickory  wood,  and  bring  me  a  roasting-hot  lemon 
ade." 

Unto  the  other  was  given  the  order,  "  Put  out  this 
fire,  and  bring  me  two  palmleaf  fans  and  a  pitcher  of 
ice-water." 

Then  the  young  people  were  dismissed,  and  the 
elders  sat  down  to  talk  the  sweet  surprise  over  and  make 
the  wedding  plans. 

Some  minutes  before  this  Mr.  Burley  rushed  from 
the  mansion  on  Telegraph  Hill  without  meeting  or  tak 
ing  formal  leave  of  anybody.  He  hissed  through  his 
teeth,  in  unconscious  imitation  of  a  popular  favorite  in 


Loves  of  A.  Fitz  Clarence  and  Rosa  Ethelton      421 

melodrama,  "  Him  shall  she  never  wed  !  I  have  sworn 
it!  Ere  great  Nature  shall  have  doffed  her  winter's 
ermine  to  don  the  emerald  gauds  of  spring,  she  shall 
be  mine !" 


III. 

TWO  weeks  later.  Every  few  hours,  during  some 
three  or  four  days,  a  very  prim  and  devout-looking 
Episcopal  clergyman,  with  a  cast  in  his  eye,  had  visited 
Alonzo.  According  to  his  card,  he  was  the  Rev. 
Melton  Hargrave,  of  Cincinnati.  He  said  he  had  re 
tired  from  the  ministry  on  account  of  his  health.  If  he 
had  said  on  account  of  ill-health,  he  would  probably 
have  erred,  to  judge  by  his  wholesome  looks  and  firm 
build.  He  was  the  inventor  of  an  improvement  in  tele 
phones,  and  hoped  to  make  his  bread  by  selling  the 
privilege  of  using  it.  "At  present,"  he  continued, 
' '  a  man  may  go  and  tap  a  telegraph  wire  which  is 
conveying  a  song  or  a  concert  from  one  State  to  another, 
and  he  can  attach  his  private  telephone  and  steal  a 
hearing  of  that  music  as  it  passes  along.  My  inven 
tion  will  stop  all  that." 

'Well,  answered  Alonzo,  "if  the  owner  of  the 
music  could  not  miss  what  was  stolen,  why  should  he 
care?" 

4  He  shouldn't  care,"  said  the  Reverend. 
'  Well?"  said  Alonzo,  inquiringly. 

"  Suppose,"  replied  the  Reverend,  "  suppose  that, 
instead  of  music  that  was  passing  along  and  being 
stolen,  the  burden  of  the  wire  was  loving  endearments 
of  the  most  private  and  sacred  nature?" 

Alonzo  shuddered  from  head  to  heel.  "  Sir,  it  is  a 
priceless  invention,"  said  he;  "I  must  have  it  at  any 
cost." 


422     Loves  of  A.  Fitz  Clarence  and  Rosa  Ethelton 

But  the  invention  was  delayed  somewhere  on  the  road 
from  Cincinnati,  most  unaccountably.  The  impatient 
Alonzo  could  hardly  wait.  The  thought  of  Rosannah's 
sweet  words  being  shared  with  him  by  some  ribald  thief 
was  galling  to  him.  The  Reverend  came  frequently 
and  lamented  the  delay,  and  told  of  measures  he  had 
taken  to  hurry  things  up.  This  was  some  little  com 
fort  to  Alonzo. 

One  forenoon  the  Reverend  ascended  the  stairs  and 
knocked  at  Alonzo's  door.  There  was  no  response. 
He  entered,  glanced  eagerly  around,  closed  the  door 
softly,  then  ran  to  the  telephone.  The  exquisitely  soft 
and  remote  strains  of  the  "  Sweet  By-and-by  "  came 
floating  through  the  instrument.  The  singer  was 
flatting,  as  usual,  the  five  notes  that  follow  the  first 
two  in  the  chorus,  when  the  Reverend  interrupted  her 
with  this  word,  in  a  voice  which  was  an  exact  imitation 
of  Alonzo's,  with  just  the  faintest  flavor  of  impatience 
added : 

"  Sweetheart?" 

"Yes,  Alonzo?" 

"  Please  don't  sing  that  anymore  this  week  —  try 
something  modern." 

The  agile  step  that  goes  with  a  happy  heart  was  heard 
on  the  stairs,  and  the  Reverend,  smiling  diabolically, 
sought  sudden  refuge  behind  the  heavy  folds  of  the 
velvet  window-curtains.  Alonzo  entered  and  flew  to 
the  telephone.  Said  he: 

"  Rosannah,  dear,  shall  we  sing  something  together?" 

"Something  modern?"  asked  she,  with  sarcastic 
bitterness. 

'  Yes,  if  you  prefer." 

"  Sing  it  yourself,  if  you  like  !" 

This  snappishness  amazed  and  wounded  the  young 
man.  He  said: 

"  Rosannah,  that  was  not  like  you." 


Loves  of  A.  Fitz  Clarence  and  Rosa  Ethelton     423 

"  I  suppose  it  becomes  me  as  much  as  your  very 
polite  speech  became  you,  Mr.  Fitz  Clarence." 

" Mister  Fitz  Clarence!  Rosannah,  there  was  noth 
ing  impolite  about  my  speech." 

"Oh,  indeed!  Of  course,  then,  I  misunderstood 
you,  and  I  most  humbly  beg  your  pardon,  ha-ha-ha ! 
No  doubt  you  said,  '  Don't  sing  it  any  more  to-day.'  '' 

"  Sing  what  any  more  to-day?" 

"  The  song  you  mentioned,  of  course.  How  very 
obtuse  we  are,  all  of  a  sudden  !" 

"  I  never  mentioned  any  song." 

"  Oh,  you  didnt?  " 

"No,  I  didn't!" 

"  I  am  compelled  to  remark  that  you  did" 

"And  I  am  obliged  to  reiterate  that  I  didn't." 

"A  second  rudeness!  That  is  sufficient,  sir.  I  will 
never  forgive  you.  All  is  over  between  us." 

Then  came  a  muffled  sound  of  crying.  Alonzo 
hastened  to  say: 

*  Oh,  Rosannah,  unsay  those  words  !  There  is  some 
dreadful  mystery  here,  some  hideous  mistake.  I  am 
utterly  earnest  and  sincere  when  I  say  I  never  said 
anything  about  any  song.  I  would  not  hurt  you  for 

the  whole  world Rosannah,  dear ! 

Oh,  speak  to  me,  won't  you?" 

There  was  a  pause;  then  Alonzo  heard  the  girl's 
sobbings  retreating,  and  knew  she  had  gone  from  the 
telephone.  He  rose  with  a  heavy  sigh,  and  hastened 
from  the  room,  saying  to  himself,  "  I  will  ransack  the 
charity  missions  and  the  haunts  of  the  poor  for  my 
mother.  She  will  persuade  her  that  I  never  meant  to 
wound  her." 

A  minute  later,  the  Reverend  was  crouching  over  the 
telephone  like  a  cat  that  knoweth  the  ways  of  the  prey. 
He  had  not  very  many  minutes  to  wait.  A  soft,  re 
pentant  voice,  tremulous  with  tears,  said : 


424     Loves  of  A.  Fitz  Clarence  and  Rosa  Ethelton 

"Alonzo,  dear,  I  have  been  wrong.  You  could  not 
have  said  so  cruel  a  thing.  It  must  have  been  some 
one  who  imitated  your  voice  in  malice  or  in  jest." 

The  Reverend  coldy  answered,  in  Alonzo's  tones: 

"  You  have  said  all  was  over  between  us.  So  let  it 
be.  I  spurn  your  proffered  repentance,  and  despise 
it!" 

Then  he  departed,  radiant  with  fiendish  triumph,  to 
return  no  more  with  his  imaginary  telephonic  invention 
forever. 

Four  hours  afterward,  Alonzo  arrived  with  his  mother 
from  her  favorite  haunts  of  poverty  and  vice.  They 
summoned  the  San  Francisco  household  ;  but  there  was 
no  reply.  They  waited,  and  continued  to  wait,  upon 
the  voiceless  telephone. 

At  length,  when  it  was  sunset  in  San  Francisco,  and 
three  hours  and  a  half  after  dark  in  Eastport,  an  answer 
came  to  the  oft-repeated  cry  of  "  Rosannah!" 

But,  alas,  it  was  Aunt  Susan's  voice  that  spake. 
She  said : 

11  I  have  been  out  all  day;  just  got  in.  I  will  go  and 
find  her." 

The  watchers  waited  two  minutes  —  five  minutes  — 
ten  minutes.  Then  came  these  fatal  words,  in  a  fright 
ened  tone: 

"  She  is  gone,  and  her  baggage  with  her.  To  visit 
another  friend,  she  told  the  servants.  But  I  found  this 
note  on  the  table  in  her  room.  Listen:  '  I  am  gone; 
seek  not  to  trace  me  out;  my  heart  is  broken ;  you  will 
never  see  me  more.  Tell  him  I  shall  always  think  of 
him  when  I  sing  my  poor  "  Sweet  By-and-by,"  but 
never  of  the  unkind  words  he  said  about  it/  That  is 
her  note.  Alonzo,  Alonzo,  what  does  it  mean?  What 
has  happened?" 

But  Alonzo  sat  white  and  cold  as  the  dead.  His 
mother  threw  back  the  velvet  curtains  and  opened  a 


Loves  of  A.  Fitz  Clarence  and  Rosa  Ethelton     425 

window.  The  cold  air  refreshed  the  sufferer,  and  he 
told  his  aunt  his  dismal  story.  Meantime  his  mother 
was  inspecting  a  card  which  had  disclosed  itself  upon 
the  floor  when  she  cast  the  curtains  back.  It  read, 
'*  Mr.  Sidney  Algernon  Burley,  San  Francisco." 

"  The  miscreant !"  shouted  Alonzo,  and  rushed  forth 
to  seek  the  false  Reverend  and  destroy  him ;  for  the 
card  explained  everything,  since  in  the  course  of  the 
lovers'  mutual  confessions  they  had  told  each  other  all 
about  all  the  sweethearts  they  had  ever  had,  and 
thrown  no  end  of  mud  at  their  failings  and  foibles  —  for 
lovers  always  do  that.  It  has  a  fascination  that  ranks 
next  after  billing  and  cooing. 


IV. 


DURING  the  next  two  months  many  things  hap 
pened.  It  had  early  transpired  that  Rosannah,  poor 
suffering  orphan,  had  neither  returned  to  her  grand 
mother  in  Portland,  Oregon,  nor  sent  any  word  to  her 
save  a  duplicate  of  the  woful  note  she  had  left  in  the 
mansion  on  Telegraph  Hill.  Whosoever  was  shelter 
ing  her  —  if  she  was  still  alive  —  had  been  persuaded 
not  to  betray  her  whereabouts,  without  doubt;  for  all 
efforts  to  find  trace  of  her  had  failed. 

Did  Alonzo  give  her  up?  Not  he.  He  said  to 
himself,  "  She  will  sing  that  sweet  song  when  she  is 
sad;  I  shall  find  her."  So  he  took  his  carpet-sack 
and  a  portable  telephone,  and  shook  the  snow  of  his 
native  city  from  his  arctics,  and  went  forth  into  the 
world.  He  wandered  far  and  wide  and  in  many  States. 
Time  and  again,  strangers  were  astounded  to  see  a 
wasted,  pale,  and  woe-worn  man  laboriously  climb  a 
telegraph-pole  in  wintry  and  lonely  places,  perch  sadly 


426      Loves  of  A,  Fitz  Clarence  and  Rosa  Ethelton 

there  an  hour,  with  his  ear  at  a  little  box,  then  come 
sighing  down,  and  wander  wearily  away.  Sometimes 
they  shot  at  him,  as  peasants  do  at  aeronauts,  thinking 
him  mad  and  dangerous.  Thus  his  clothes  were  much 
shredded  by  bullets  and  his  person  grievously  lacerated. 
But  he  bore  it  all  patiently. 

In  the  beginning  of  his  pilgrimage  he  used  often  to 
say,  "  Ah,  if  I  could  but  hear  the  '  Sweet  By  and 
By  '  !"  But  toward  the  end  of  it  he  used  to  shed  tears 
of  anguish  and  say,  "  Ah,  if  I  could  but  hear  some 
thing  else!" 

Thus  a  month  and  three  weeks  drifted  by,  and  at 
last  some  humane  people  seized  him  and  confined  him 
in  a  private  mad-house  in  New  York.  He  made  no 
moan,  for  his  strength  was  all  gone,  and  with  it  all 
heart  and  all  hope.  The  superintendent,  in  pity,  gave 
up  his  own  comfortable  parlor  and  bedchamber  to  him 
and  nursed  him  with  affectionate  devotion. 

At  the  end  of  a  week  the  patient  was  able  to  leave 
his  bed  for  the  first  time.  He  was  lying,  comfortably 
pillowed,  on  a  sofa,  listening  to  the  plaintive  Miserere 
of  the  bleak  March  winds,  and  the  muffled  sound  of 
tramping  feet  in  the  street  below  —  for  it  was  about 
six  in  the  evening,  and  New  York  was  going  home 
from  work.  He  had  a  bright  fire  and  the  added  cheer 
of  a  couple  of  student  lamps.  So  it  was  warm  and 
snug  within,  though  bleak  and  raw  without;  it  was 
light  and  bright  within,  though  outside  it  was  as  dark 
and  dreary  as  if  the  world  had  been  lit  with  Hartford 
gas.  Alonzo  smiled  feebly  to  think  how  his  loving 
vagaries  had  made  him  a  maniac  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world,  and  was  proceeding  to  pursue  his  line  of  thought 
further,  when  a  faint,  sweet  strain,  the  very  ghost  of 
sound,  so  remote  and  attenuated  it  seemed,  struck 
upon  his  ear.  His  pulses  stood  still;  he  listened 
with  parted  lips  and  bated  breath.  The  song  flowed 


Loves  of  A.  Fitz  Clarence  and  Rosa  Ethelton     427 

on  —  he  waiting,  listening,  rising  slowly  and  uncon 
sciously  from  his  recumbent  position.  At  last  he  ex 
claimed  : 

11  It  is  !   it  is  she  !      Oh,  the  divine  flatted  notes  !" 

He  dragged  himself  eagerly  to  the  corner  whence  the 
sounds  proceeded,  tore  aside  a  curtain,  and  discovered 
a  telephone.  He  bent  over,  and  as  the  last  note  died 
away  he  burst  forth  with  the  exclamation : 

"  Oh,  thank  Heavens,  found  at  last!  Speak  to  me, 
Rosannah,  dearest!  The  cruel  mystery  has  been  un 
raveled  ;  it  was  the  villain  Burley  who  mimicked  my 
voice  and  wounded  you  with  insolent  speech  !" 

There  was  a  breathless  pause,  a  waiting  age  to 
Alonzo ;  then  a  faint  sound  came,  framing  itself  into 
language : 

"  Oh,  say  those  precious  words  again,  Alonzo  !" 
'  They  are  the  truth,  the  veritable  truth,  my  Rosan 
nah,  and  you  shall  have  the  proof,  ample  and  abundant 
proof  !J> 

"  Oh,  Alonzo,  stay  by  me!  Leave  me  not  for  a 
moment !  Let  me  feel  that  you  are  near  me !  Tell 
me  we  shall  never  be  parted  more!  Oh,  this  happy 
hour,  this  blessed  hour,  this  memorable  hour!" 

'  We  will  make  record  of  it,  my  Rosannah;  every 
year,  as  this  dear  hour  chimes  from  the  clock,  we  will 
celebrate  it  with  thanksgivings,  all  the  years  of  our 
life." 

"We  will,  we  will,  Alonzo!" 

11  Four  minutes  after  six,  in  the  evening,  my  Rosan 
nah,  shall  henceforth — " 

"  Twenty-three  minutes  after  twelve,  afternoon, 
shall—" 

"  Why,  Rosannah,  darling,  where  are  you?" 

"  In  Honolulu,  Sandwich  Islands.  And  where  are 
you  ?  Stay  by  me ;  do  not  leave  me  for  a  moment.  I 
cannot  bear  it.  Are  you  at  home?" 


428      Loves  of  A.  Fitz  Clarence  and  Rosa  Ethelton 

"  No,  dear,  I  am  in  New  York  —  a  patient  in  the 
doctor's  hands." 

An  agonizing  shriek  came  buzzing  to  Alonzo's  ear, 
like  the  sharp  buzzing  of  a  hurt  gnat ;  it  lost  power  in 
traveling  five  thousand  miles.  Alonzo  hastened  to  say: 

"  Calm  yourself,  my  child.  It  is  nothing.  Already 
I  am  getting  well  under  the  sweet  healing  of  your 
presence.  Rosannah?" 

"Yes,  Alonzo?  Oh,  how  you  terrified  me!  Say 
on." 

14  N»ame  the  happy  day,  Rosannah !" 

There  was  a  little  pause.  Then  a  diffident  small 
voice  replied,  "  I  blush  —  but  it  is  with  pleasure,  it  is 
with  happiness.  Would  —  would  you  like  to  have  it 
soon?" 

"This  very  night,  Rosannah!  Oh,  let  us  risk  no 
more  delays.  Let  it  be  now!  —  this  very  night,  this 
very  moment!" 

"  Oh,  you  impatient  creature!  I  have  nobody  here 
but  my  good  old  uncle,  a  missionary  for  a  generation, 
and  now  retired  from  service  —  nobody  but  him  and 
his  wife.  I  would  so  dearly  like  it  if  your  mother  and 
your  Aunt  Susan  — " 

"  Our  mother  and  our  Aunt  Susan,  my  Rosannah." 

'  Yes,  our  mother  and  our  Aunt  Susan  —  I  am  con 
tent  to  word  it  so  if  it  pleases  you ;  I  would  so  like  to 
have  them  present." 

"  So  would  I.  Suppose  you  telegraph  Aunt  Susan. 
How  long  would  it  take  her  to  come?" 

11  The  steamer  leaves  San  Francisco  day  after  to 
morrow.  The  passage  is  eight  days.  She  would  be 
here  the  3ist  of  March." 

"  Then  name  the  ist  of  April;   do,  Rosannah,  dear." 

"  Mercy,  it  would  make  us  April  fools,  Alonzo !" 

"So  we  be  the  happiest  ones  that  that  day's  sun 
looks  down  upon  in  the  whole  broad  expanse  of  the 


Loves  of  A.  Fitz  Clarence  and  Rosa  Ethelton     429 

globe,  why  need  we  care?  Call  it  the  1st  of  April, 
dear." 

"  Then  the  ist  of  April  it  shall  be,  with  all  my 
heart!" 

"  Oh,  happiness!    Name  the  hour,  too,  Rosannah." 

"  I  like  the  morning,  it  is  so  blithe.  Will  eight  in 
the  morning  do,  Alonzo?" 

"  The  loveliest  hour  in  the  day  —  since  it  will  make 
you  mine." 

There  was  a  feeble  but  frantic  sound  for  some  little 
time,  as  if  wool-lipped,  disembodied  spirits  were  ex 
changing  kisses;  then  Rosannah  said,  "Excuse  me 
just  a  moment,  dear;  I  have  an  appointment,  and  am 
called  to  meet  it." 

The  young  girl  sought  a  large  parlor  and  took  her 
place  at  a  window  which  looked  out  upon  a  beautiful 
scene.  To  the  left  one  could  view  the  charming 
Nuuana  Valley,  fringed  with  its  ruddy  flush  of  tropical 
flowers  and  its  plumed  and  graceful  cocoa  palms ;  its 
rising  foot-hills  clothed  in  the  shining  green  of  lemon, 
citron,  and  orange  groves;  its  storied  precipice  beyond, 
where  the  first  Kamehameha  drove  his  defeated  foes 
over  to  their  destruction  —  a  spot  that  had  forgotten 
its  grim  history,  no  doubt,  for  now  it  was  smiling,  as 
almost  always  at  noonday,  under  the  glowing  arches  of 
a  succession  of  rainbows.  In  front  of  the  window  one 
could  see  the  quaint  town,  and  here  and  there  a  pic 
turesque  group  of  dusky  natives,  enjoying  the  blister 
ing  weather;  and  far  to  the  right  lay  the  restless  ocean, 
tossing  its  white  mane  in  the  sunshine. 

Rosannah  stood  there,  in  her  filmy  white  raiment, 
fanning  her  flushed  and  heated  face,  waiting.  A 
Kanaka  boy,  clothed  in  a  damaged  blue  necktie  and 
part  of  a  silk  hat,  thrust  his  head  in  at  the  door,  and 
announced,  "  'Frisco  haole  /" 

"  Show  him  in,"  said  the  girl,  straightening  herself 


430      Loves  of  A.  Fitz  Clarence  and  Rosa  Ethelton 

up  and  assuming  a  meaning  dignity.  Mr.  Sidney 
Algernon  Burley  entered,  clad  from  head  to  heel  in 
dazzling  snow  —  that  is  to  say,  in  the  lightest  and 
whitest  of  Irish  linen.  He  moved  eagerly  forward,  but 
the  girl  made  a  gesture  and  gave  him  a  look  which 
checked  him  suddenly.  She  said,  coldly,  "  I  am  here, 
as  I  promised.  I  believed  your  assertions,  I  yielded  to 
your  importunities,  and  said  I  would  name  the  day.  I 
name  the  ist  of  April  —  eight  in  the  morning.  Now 
go!" 

*'  Oh,  my  dearest,  if  the  gratitude  of  a  lifetime — " 
11  Not  a  word.      Spare  me  all  sight  of  you,  all  com 
munication  with  you,  until  that  hour.     No  —  no  sup 
plications ;   I  will  have  it  so." 

When  he  was  gone,  she  sank  exhausted  in  a  chair, 
for  the  long  siege  of  troubles  she  had  undergone  had 
wasted  her  strength.  Presently  she  said,  "  What  a 
narrow  escape  !  If  the  hour  appointed  had  been  an 
hour  earlier  — Oh,  horror,  what  an  escape  I  have  made  ! 
And  to  think  I  had  come  to  imagine  I  was  loving  this 
beguiling,  this  truthless,  this  treacherous  monster! 
Oh,  he  shall  repent  his  villainy!" 

Let  us  now  draw  this  history  to  a  close,  for  little 
more  needs  to  be  told.  On  the  2d  of  the  ensuing 
April,  the  Honolulu  Advertiser  contained  this  notice: 

MARRIED. —  In  this  city,  by  telephone,  yesterday  morning,  at  eight 
o'clock,  by  Rev.  Nathan  Hays,  assisted  by  Rev.  Nathaniel  Davis,  of  New 
York,  Mr.  Alonzo  Fitz  Clarence,  of  Eastport,  Maine,  U.  S.,  and  Miss 
Rosannah  Ethelton,  of  Portland,  Oregon,  U.  S.  Mrs.  Susan  Rowland,  of 
San  Francisco,  a  friend  of  the  bride,  was  present,  she  being  the  guest  of 
the  Rev.  Mr.  Hays  and  wife,  uncle  and  aunt  of  the  bride.  Mr.  Sidney 
Algernon  Burley,  of  San  Francisco,  was  also  present  but  did  not  remain  till 
the  conclusion  of  the  marriage  service.  Captain  Hawthorne's  beautiful 
yacht,  tastefully  decorated,  was  in  waiting,  and  the  happy  bride  and  her 
friends  immediately  departed  on  a  bridal  trip  to  Lahaina  and  Haleakala. 


Loves  of  A.  Fitz  Clarence  and  Rosa  Ethelton     431 

The  New  York  papers  of  the  same  date  contained 
this  notice: 

MARRIED. —  In  this  city,  yesterday,  by  telephone,  at  half-past  two  in  the 
morning,  by  Rev.  Nathaniel  Davis,  assisted  by  Rev.  Nathan  Hays,  of  Hon 
olulu,  Mr.  Alonzo  Fitz  Clarence,  of  Eastport,  Maine,  and  Miss  Rosannah 
Ethelton,  of  Portland,  Oregon.  The  parents  and  several  friends  of  the 
bridegroom  were  present,  and  enjoyed  a  sumptuous  breakfast  and  much 
festivity  until  nearly  sunrise,  and  then  departed  on  a  bridal  trip  to  the 
Aquarium,  the  bridegroom's  state  of  health  not  admitting  of  a  more  ex 
tended  journey. 

Toward  the  close  of  that  memorable  day,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Alonzo  Fitz  Clarence  were  buried  in  sweet  con 
verse  concerning  the  pleasures  of  their  several  bridal 
tours,  when  suddenly  the  young  wife  exclaimed  :  **  Oh, 
Lonny,  I  forgot!  I  did  what  I  said  I  would." 
'  Did  you,  dear?" 

"  Indeed,  I  did.  I  made  him  the  April  fool !  And 
I  told  him  so,  too!  Ah,  it  was  a  charming  surprise! 
There  he  stood,  sweltering  in  a  black  dress  suit,  with 
the  mercury  leaking  out  of  the  top  of  the  thermometer, 
waiting  to  be  married.  You  should  have  seen  the  look 
he  gave  when  I  whispered  it  in  his  ear.  Ah,  his 
wickedness  cost  me  many  a  heartache  and  many  a 
tear,  but  the  score  was  all  squared  up,  then.  So  the 
vengeful  feeling  went  right  out  of  my  heart,  and  I 
begged  him  to  stay,  and  said  I  forgave  him  everything. 
But  he  wouldn't.  He  said  he  would  live  to  be 
avenged ;  said  he  would  make  our  lives  a  curse  to  us. 
But  he  can't,  can  he,  dear?" 

"  Never  in  this  world,  my  Rosannah!" 

Aunt  Susan,  the  Oregonian  grandmother,  and  the 
young  couple  and  their  Eastport  parents,  are  all  happy 
at  this  writing,  and  likely  to  remain  so.  Aunt  Susan 

brought  the  bride   from  the  islands,  accompanied  her 

28 


432      Loves  of  A.  Fitz  Clarence  and  Rosa  Ethelton 

across  our  continent,  and  had  the  happiness  of  witness 
ing  the  rapturous  meeting  between  an  adoring  husband 
and  wife  who  had  never  seen  each  other  until  that 
moment. 

A  word  about  the  wretched  Burley,  whose  wicked 
machinations  came  so  near  wrecking  the  hearts  and 
lives  of  our  poor  young  friends,  will  be  sufficient.  In 
a  murderous  attempt  to  seize  a  crippled  and  helpless 
artisan  who  he  fancied  had  done  him  some  small 
offense,  he  fell  into  a  caldron  of  boiling  oil  and  expired 
before  he  could  be  extinguished. 


MAP  OF  PARIS' 


TO  THE  READER 

THE  accompanying  map  explains  itself. 
The  idea  of  this  map  is  not  original  with  me, 
but  is  borrowed  from  the  great  metropolitan  journals. 

I  claim  no  other  merit  for  this  production  (if  I  may 
so  call  it)  than  that  it  is  accurate.  The  main  blemish 
of  the  city  paper  maps,  of  which  it  is  an  imitation,  is 
that  in  them  more  attention  seems  paid  to  artistic 
picturesqueness  than  geographical  reliability. 

Inasmuch  as  this  is  the  first  time  I  ever  tried  to  draft 
and  engrave  a  map,  or  attempted  anything  in  any  line 
of  art,  the  commendations  the  work  has  received  and 
the  admiration  it  has  excited  among  the  people  have 
been  very  grateful  to  my  feelings.  And  it  is  touching 
to  reflect  that  by  far  the  most  enthusiastic  of  these 
praises  have  come  from  people  who  knew  nothing  at 
all  about  art. 

By  an  unimportant  oversight  I  have  engraved  the 
map  so  that  it  reads  wrong  end  first,  except  to  left- 
handed  people.  I  forgot  that  in  order  to  make  it  right 
in  print,  it  should  be  drawn  and  engraved  upside 
down.  However,  let  the  student  who  desires  to  con 
template  the  map  stand  on  his  head  or  hold  it  before  a 
looking-glass.  That  will  bring  it  right. 

The  reader  will  comprehend   at  a  glance  that  that 

*  Written  about  1871, 

28**  (433) 


434  Map  of  Paris 

piece  of  river  with  the  "  High  Bridge  "  over  it  got  left 
out  to  one  side  by  reason  of  a  slip  of  the  graving-tool, 
which  rendered  it  necessary  to  change  the  entire  course 
of  the  River  Rhine,  or  else  spoil  the  map.  After 
having  spent  two  days  in  digging  and  gouging  at  the 
map,  I  would  have  changed  the  course  of  the  Atlantic 
Ocean  before  I  would  lose  so  much  work. 

I  never  had  so  much  trouble  with  anything  in  my 
life  as  I  had  with  this  map.  I  had  heaps  of  little 
fortifications  scattered  all  around  Paris  at  first,  but 
every  now  and  then  my  instruments  would  slip  and 
fetch  away  whole  miles  of  batteries,  and  leave  the 
vicinity  as  clean  as  if  the  Prussians  had  been  there. 

The  reader  will  find  it  well  to  frame  this  map  for 
future  reference,  so  that  it  may  aid  in  extending 
popular  intelligence,  and  in  dispelling  the  widespread 
ignorance  of  the  day.  MARK  TWAIN. 


OFFICIAL  COMMENDATIONS. 
It  is  the  only  map  of  the  kind  I  ever  saw. 


U.  S.  GRANT. 


It  places  the  situation  in  an  entirely  new  light. 

BISMARCK. 


I  cannot  look  upon  it  without  shedding  tears. 

BRIGHAM  YOUNG. 


It  is  very  nice  large  print. 

NAPOLEON. 


My  wife  was  for  years  afflicted  with  freckles,  and,  though  everything 
was  done  for  her  relief  that  could  be  done,  all  was  in  vain.  But,  sir,  since 
her  first  glance  at  your  map,  they  have  entirely  left  her.  She  has  nothing 
but  convulsions  now. 

J.  SMITH. 


Map  of  Paris 


435 


BB** 


436  Map  of  Paris 

If  I  had  had  this  map,  I  could  have  got  out  of  Metz  without  any  trouble. 

BAZAINE. 


I  have  seen  a  great  many  maps  in  my  time,  but  none  that  this  one 
reminds  me  of. 

TROCHU. 


It  is  but  fair  to  say  that  in  some  respects  it  is  a  truly  remarkable  map. 

W.  T.  SHERMAN. 


I  said  to  my  son  Frederick  William,  "  If  you  could  only  make  a  map 
like  that,  I  should  be  perfectly  willing  to  see  you  die  —  even  anxious." 

WILLIAM  III. 


LETTER  READ  AT  A  DINNER 

OF   THE   KNIGHTS   OF  ST.   PATRICK 


HARTFORD,  CONN.,  March  16,  1876. 
To  THE  CHAIRMAN  : 

DEAR  SIR, —  I  am  very  sorry  that  I  cannot  be  with 
the  Knights  of  St.  Patrick  to-morrow  evening.  In  this 
centennial  year  we  ought  to  find  a  peculiar  pleasure  in 
doing  honor  to  the  memory  of  a  man  whose  good 
name  has  endured  through  fourteen  centuries.  We 
ought  to  find  pleasure  in  it  for  the  reason  that  at  this 
time  we  naturally  have  a  fellow-feeling  for  such  a  man. 
He  wrought  a  great  work  in  his  day.  He  found  Ire 
land  a  prosperous  republic,  and  looked  about  him  to 
see  if  he  might  find  some  useful  thing  to  turn  his  hand 
to.  He  observed  that  the  president  of  that  republic 
was  in  the  habit  of  sheltering  his  great  officials  from 
deserved  punishment,  so  he  lifted  up  his  staff  and  smote 
him,  and  he  died.  He  found  that  the  secretary  of  war 
had  been  so  unbecomingly  economical  as  to  have  laid 
up  $12,000  a  year  out  of  a  salary  of  $8,000,  and  he 
killed  him.  He  found  that  the  secretary  of  the  interior 
always  prayed  over  every  separate  and  distinct  barrel 
of  salt  beef  that  was  intended  for  the  unconverted  sav 
age,  and  then  kept  that  beef  himself,  so  he  killed  him 
also.  He  found  that  the  secretary  of  the  navy  knew 
more  about  handling  suspicious  claims  than  he  did 

(437) 


438  Letter  Read  at  a  Dinner 

about  handling  a  ship,  and  he  at  once  made  an  end  of 
him.  He  found  that  a  very  foul  private  secretary  had 
been  engineered  through  a  sham  trial,  so  he  destroyed 
him,  He  discovered  that  the  congress  which  pretended 
to  prodigious  virtue  was  very  anxious  to  investigate  an 
ambassador  who  had  dishonored  the  country  abroad, 
but  was  equally  anxious  to  prevent  the  appointment  of 
any  spotless  man  to  a  similar  post ;  that  this  congress 
had  no  God  but  party ;  no  system  of  morals  but  party 
policy;  no  vision  but  a  bat's  vision;  and  no  reason  or 
excus'e  for  existing  anyhow.  Therefore  he  massacred 
that  congress  to  the  last  man. 

When  he  had  finished  his  great  work,  he  said,  in  his 
figurative  way,  4t  Lo,  I  have  destroyed  all  the  reptiles 
in  Ireland." 

St.  Patrick  had  no  politics ;  his  sympathies  lay  with 
the  right  —  that  was  politics  enough.  When  he 
came  across  a  reptile,  he  forgot  to  inquire  whether  he 
was  a  democrat  or  a  republican,  but  simply  exalted  his 
staff  and  "let  him  have  it."  Honored  be  his  name 
—  I  wish  we  had  him  here  to  trim  us  up  for  the  centen 
nial.  But  that  cannot  be.  His  staff,  which  was  the 
symbol  of  real,  not  sham  reform,  is  idle.  However, 
we  still  have  with  us  the  symbol  of  Truth  —  George 
Washington's  little  hatchet  —  for  I  know  where  they've 
buried  it. 

Yours  truly, 

MARK  TWAIN. 


THE  END. 


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